The Dawn that Rose from Fire

Alenyah meets the Stoneborn- Day Six of Novel November

Please be sure to read previous sections 1-5 first for the story to make sense! This is a series for Novel November.

Chapter Three

Berin and Korith eyed her as she swept towards them. Korith speculatively, his hair tied back behind his pointed ears. Berin’s gaze flicked back and forth between her and his seated guests, as if he wasn’t sure whether to announce her presence to the table.

Minisculely, Alenyah shook her head. Her and Korith stood out already with their pointed ears and lithe movements. She was already at a disadvantage having no idea who they were. She wanted them on equal footing. She should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Alenyah turned around the doorframe and entered the dining room without ceremony. Four Stoneborn sat at the end of a long table, framed by the warm Ironwood accents of the ceiling beams and chairs. It was foolish to think they wouldn’t recognize Fey’ri craftwork.

That wasn’t what caused Alenyah to falter. It was the Stoneborn sitting at the head of the table. He almost drove her to violence. The Song thrummed to life, and for the first time in a while, Alenyah could almost see it, the vibrations around everything, saturating the air with LIFE.

A pair of royal amber eyes met her green ones, and a sudden hush fell over the table.

Kaelen, son of Kael — heir to the Crags of the Stoneborn.

Broad as the chair was narrow, with black hair braided and tied in leather, a dark beard framing a jaw like carved obsidian. His hands, scarred by fire, rested on a tankard that seemed almost small in his grip.

His skin shimmered faintly with silver dust, as if stone remembered its own light.

The Stoneborn, while made of flesh and blood, always had the appearance of being etched from rock. Their pale skin always traced a faint mineral sheen as though veined with granite and opal. His tanned skin glimmered as though dusted with silver.

“Er,” Berin started. “Yes, introductions!” He clapped his hands.

He pointed at the largest Stoneborn, who was tilting his chair dangerously back on two legs. His skin veined with obsidian and his arms crossed as he surveyed Alenyah. She struggled to keep her expression impassive even as she was seized with the impulse to stick out her foot and hook the chair legs off the floor.

As if sensing her thoughts, he narrowed his eyes, letting the chair fall forward with a crack as the legs almost snapped. Berin winced.

“This is Foxran, and who we have here,” He gestured to an androgynous Stoneborn with a shock of orange red hair waving lazily, “Is Tavren. They have all the medical knowledge you could possibly want.”

Alenyah had her doubts, but she kept them to herself, raising her eyebrows. “Really?”

“And you already know Korith, so that leaves-”

“Kaelen.” A low rumble interrupted Berin. Her gaze snapped back to those amber eyes. She could have sworn recognition flickered, lingered in their depths.

“Just Kaelen?” Alenyah challenged, daring him to reveal himself. Amber burned, and his lips turned into a frown.

“No, but I would know you before we speak further.”

“I thought Korith was the only Fey’ri in the area!” Tavren leaned forward onto the table excitedly. “I have actually never met one before. It’s so exciting to find two of you. We thought you were-”

Foxran coughed loudly covering whatever Tavren had been about to say. Their cheeks heated with embarrassment.

“Well, that doesn’t matter!” They added hastily. An awkward silence fell. Korith plunked a tankard down in front of Alenyah which she did not touch. She looked in the corner where a final Stoneborn had pushed his seat into the shadows of the mantle. He was clearly hiding himself, which she did not appreciate one jot.

“And this?” She asked, inclining her head. Another pair of amber eyes gazed back, unanswering.

“Seth!” Tavren snapped. He flinched, finally leaning into the light. “Stop trying to be mysterious and introduce yourself!”

“Keep your hair on,” he muttered. He had dark hair like Kaelen but cropped close to his skull. To Alenyah, he seemed to be the slimmest Stoneborn she had ever seen. Maybe he was a mix of Stoneborn and Rhea? She squinted trying to see his ears and jumped as Korith settled a hand heavily on her shoulder.

Right, her turn.

“Alenyah,” she stated, running her fingers along the whorls in the wood. “And I’m…Fey’ri.”

“So you are,” Kaelen rumbled. “Which doesn’t answer what you’re doing here.” His gaze shifted to Berin and Korith. “I was not told we would have other guests for this meeting.”

“That’s because I wasn’t invited,” Alenyah butted in, irritated. “Berin is my friend, and the Fey’ri guard The Vale. I wanted to know what brought so many Stoneborn,” her voice dripped with disgust, “into this valley.”

He raised a dark brow. “Am I to assume we aren’t welcome?”

“No,” Berin spoke over Alenyah as she tried to say yes. “No! You are perfectly welcome here. WE,” he spread his arms as though he could encompass the whole of The Vale. “Are pleased you have decided to join us!”

From inside his dress coat, Berin pulled forth a rolled up map and leaned over Alenyah’s shoulder, spreading it across the table. All of them leaned forward. Her gaze fell to the map spread before her — the red line cutting east to west. Her pulse roared as her eyes found the word scrawled in her mother’s tongue.

REACH.

The Song keened, a sound only she could hear. She surged to her feet, chair crashing behind her.

Korith’s hand tightened on her shoulder in warning, but she violently jerked from his hold. Kaelen and Foxran jumped upwards, looming in the small space. Her heart boomed in her chest as her back hit the wall hard enough to shake dust from the Ironwood beams.

“What is this!” Alenyah snapped. Berin stared at her, mouth agape. “What are you planning!?”

“Ally?” She whirled, seeing Althea standing in the doorway holding a steaming roast on a heaping platter of vegetables. Breathing hard, she tried to calm the Song that had begun shrieking in her ears.

Berin’s hands came up, palms out, as if he could ward off the storm gathering in her voice.

“Alenyah—please, let me explain.”

“You lied to me,” she hissed. “You brought them here—Stoneborn, for the love of the Song—and you think you can just sit here and—”

“Listen!” Berin’s voice cracked across the table sharper than she’d ever heard it. The shock of it stilled her. “You think I don’t know what I’ve done? That I don’t feel it?” He dragged a trembling hand through his hair. “I wasn’t planning an invasion. I was planning an expedition.”

“An expedition?” she echoed, incredulous.

He nodded. “To the Reach. To the Crags.” He tapped the jagged line on the map. “I’ve been sending letters to an old friend. He has access to records, texts—old trade routes, ruins that predate the Wyrm’s rise. I thought—” He faltered, then swallowed hard. “I thought there might be something left. A way to undo what it’s done.”

Alenyah blinked. “Undo the Wyrm?”

“I know how it sounds.” His voice softened. “But the old tales say it was born of imbalance like greed, fire, decay. If we can find where it began, maybe there’s a way to end it. To heal what 's poisoned.”

She stared at him, feeling the Song pulse hot under her skin. “You were going to pay them to take you there?” She gestured at Kaelen and the Stoneborn. “You were going to leave, without even telling me?”

“I wasn’t sure I could.” Berin’s eyes gleamed wetly in the candlelight. “But, Ally, I can’t just sit here anymore. Not after Laila.”

The name landed between them like a weight.

Her anger faltered, just for a breath.

“Laila would’ve wanted you to stay alive,” she whispered.

He gave a humorless smile. “She would’ve wanted me to live. And I haven’t—not since she died. These maps, this plan… It's the first thing that’s made me feel there’s still some purpose. Something I can give back.”

The room had gone quiet except for the faint hum of the Song—alive, uncertain.

Althea planted the roast in the middle of the table. The platter hit the wood with a thud that made the candles jump. Alenyah could practically see the steam rising off her friend’s head.

“You were just going to go off with these strangers?” she squeaked. “Just leave me here so you can go gallivanting off to do what?!” She pointed at Foxran, who looked like he’d rather crawl under the table. “And what’s in it for them? There isn’t enough gold in the world to pay someone to face a wyrm!”

Berin, who had seemed so steady in the wake of Alenyah’s fury, deflated. His shoulders sagged; his hands fell from the edges of the map as though the parchment itself had become too heavy.

Alenyah hated this moment more than anything. The four Stoneborn seeing them all like this. She was Fey’ri—supposed to be composed, distant, untouchable. But right now, she was anything but.

She wanted them gone.

“Perhaps,” she said through clenched teeth, “we should speak in private.”

Kaelen’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, folding his forearms atop the table. The candlelight traced the silver glint in the lines of his skin. When he spoke, his tone was even, but his eyes gleamed with iron.

“With respect, Alenyah, this does concern us. Your friend sought our aid. Our journey, our purpose—” he nodded toward the map, “—is now bound to his.”

The words struck like hammer blows. Alenyah’s jaw locked. She met his gaze and found no malice there, only calm certainty, the kind that came from someone used to leading, not asking permission.

Before she could answer, Korith lifted a hand.

“Enough,” he said softly, but it carried. “The Song is already fraying around us with every sharp word. If we mean to discuss wyrms and maps and peril, we’d best do it with full stomachs and clearer heads.”

He smiled, a small, disarming thing that still managed to command the room. “Sit. Eat. Then, Berin, you can explain yourself—properly—and perhaps we will all see reason before the night ends.”

Foxran muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like finally, and Althea, though still fuming, gave a terse nod and began serving the roast with brisk, angry efficiency.

Alenyah remained standing a moment longer, every instinct screaming to bolt for the door, to breathe air not tainted with tension. But Kaelen’s steady amber gaze held her there. She right her and sank down, the Song in her blood still thrumming a warning.

If Korith was right, she’d need a clear head to hear whatever Berin had gotten himself into.

The Stoneborn had better manners than she’d expected. Seth put a napkin in his lap, and she watched as Kaelen slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscled forearms and burns that extended up to his elbows. He saw her watching, assessing, and she felt his eyes as though they were feathers, reading the tell tale scars on her own neck and arms, the story of constant swordplay her hands had to tell. It was as though for a moment a quiet understanding existed between them.

She didn’t know where he’d been that day—the day the Wyrm broke the world—but the fire had marked him in a way she had been blessed to escape.

Or perhaps, cursed to.