The Sage green of a hopeless heart

"When they saw the darkness coming, they ran. The stars and their light ran to all the places their ancient light touched and disgusted themselves as hope in the mighty hearts of all the living things that walked those plains of existence. In all living things of every shape and size did they hid in plain sight, but none bear more than in all the creatures who could look up at the stars and remember they were the light."

The aged man took a shaky breath before continuing, gaze briefly sweeping across his audience.

Abel looked on from the edge of the hall where the story keeper entertained the clan with the tale most beloved by her people. Even now, it was treasured above all others.

Glancing over her shoulder, Abel peered through the gloom at the fields beyond the glass doors,

She couldn't see the graves from here, but she knew where all of them were. Knew the paths to walk through those fields of graves so as not the disturbing the mourners or the souls of those returned to the earth.

Her hands, though clean, felt slicked with the ghost of the holy soil hugging every crease in her palms and fingers.

Too many.

There were too many body's out there. Too many graves had been dug in the short weeks before autumn.

Too many graves of children and babes.

Mothers were the first to request the stories from Abel's ancient grandfather. The first to silently beg for reassurance in the existence of a life outside of this one. A life where children were not slaves, wars weren't waged on gore-ridden crops, and good men weren't wasted on blood-soaked ground.

It did not take long for everyone else to join them in their crusade for hope.

There were other stories, of course, written down and stored in an unusually plain wooden box. Each tale carefully preserved for the next story keeper to memorise.

For her to memorise.

She'd been made the keeper's heir only three seasons prior, and she had yet to even touch it. Abel already knew most of the stories by heart, it was her legacy, her duty. To be the hope of the people. To be their stars on the moonless nights and the sun at the breaking of dawn.

The previous story keeper’s heir had been called a sage heart for the wisdom that seemed to seep from her soul. Abel was afforded no such titles; though unfounded, many resented her for her mother's death.

Their unspoken accusations weighed as heavy as if she were guilty of murder.

No, her only honorific was a hopeless heart.

If her mother was the people's pride, she was the people's shame.

So hateful were the eyes that gazed upon her were so hateful that Abel suspected that when death came to greet her, the only honour her countrymen would deign to bestow would be to spit on her grave.

A crisp, cold wind gripped her under the chip. Dragging her attention to a cloaked figure in the field just beyond her focal point.

She wished who she saw was flesh and blood, just as she wished she was not the only one to see this little miracle.

The dead chose who saw them.

Chose who got to see them for what little time they were granted. It made her heart hurt with how unworthy of this choice she was.

Her mother’s deep resonating chuckle warmed her soul and chiselled at the stone of Abel's heart.

"Are you going to keep me waiting, little wild heart, or are you going to join me out here in the fields, my brave little lion"

Tears stung Abel's eyes, the sound of her mother's voice as clear and sure as it had been in the days before her sickness. Abel had never needed something more than that voice than her mother.

Running to the field, she let the tears fall, letting all the fear and despair vanish into the wind. She skidded, tripping as she tried to get her footing. She fell right through her mother and onto the grass behind her.

Her tears became quite shakes and sobs as the truth she'd already known sunk in.

"Oh, wild heart, you know this isn't how this works."

"I wish it were."

Abel sobbed

"No you don't. Because it would hurt all the more if you could."

Her mother's smile felt bitterly sweet in her throat. Pain and guilt chocking her sobs as Abel looked up at her.

Cloaked in the moonlight's embrace, her mother's face looked young and vital as she turned her nose to the heavens.

The act was so familiar and yet so removed it further tugged on the fraying strings in Abel's chest, like a drowning child clings to anything it can hold.

"Abel, my sweet girl, I'm sorry to have made your heart bleed, But understand, you cannot let the fire die."

Abel deeply breathed in, the cold air cutting her lungs all the way down to her bones. She breathed in, and then breathed some more. Her attempts to outrun her broken heart and burning spirit had failed, and the truth of it sent shards cutting through her bones.

"I know- Abel rasped- I know."

Deep brown eyes once more meeting hers, her mother raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well then, you'd better stand up wild heart, you've got work to do, and crying on the ground won't get it gone."

"How?" Abel begged through thieving tears, robbing her of the will to stand, to fight.

"You've not forgotten how to walk in my absence."

"No- Abel half chuckled half sobbed- no, I remember how to walk."

Her mother quirked an eyebrow, arms crossing, eyes twinkling.

"I know you are afraid wild heart, and I know you fear failing them most of all."

Bending over Abel, so the moonlight made her silhouette glow silver.

"But you cannot fear a storm that you summon child. One way or another, you would have been a story keeper."

"I know but."

Her mother held up a strong, scared hand to silence her.

"You will never convince those who wish to see the world in black and white that you are innocent in my death, and that cannot be your goal. Because if it is, you will fail."

Abel blinked back more acid tears, her pain expelling itself in the only way it could.

"Then what do I do?" her voice regaining strength.

Her mother straightened, once again letting the moon bathing Abel in silver mist.

"You stand up, and you take one step at a time. Of course, you'll fail over and over and over, but you never stop trying. You get up every time, even if it takes you a while. You always keep going."

Standing, Abel looked her mother in the eye, taking in the sight of the last vestiges of strength she'd thought left in this crumbling world. Tattooing this saint of a woman into the foundations of her memory.

"My legacy needn't brand you the monster my wild heart. Your warrior's spirit needn't brand you a killer. It is your strength they people shall need Abel. It is you whose strength shall hold them. And it is that strength I do not have"

Abel felt the confession slice through her like a scythe.

Before she could respond, her mother spoke again, quieter and meek than Abel had ever heard her voice sound.

"I love you, Abel, my wild-hearted daughter, my brave warrior heart. Never give up, never give in and give it your all."

Before Able could blink, the miracle that was her mother's ghost was gone, erased as quickly as if she had been nothing but air on a lazy breeze.

Looking up at the frozen smile of the moon and her court of cowardly stars, Abel breathed in the truth of her mother's words and let them settle into her heart like stones sinking to the bottom of a lake.

Mustering the scraps of courage in her hopeless heart, she strode forward into the night, toward the hall's light and her people's whispered chatter.

Her people.

Hers to protect, hers to guard, hers to strive for. No, Abel would not let the fire die. Abel would be the fire. The fire in their hearts, the hope in their hearths, and the sword to defend it.

She was Abel with a wild heart of fire and fury. She was the story keeper's heir. She had a duty to fulfil, and Abel would be damned if she didn't try.