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Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old, and she can only watch as the strange cloaked figures invade her home with their menacing authority and their dark presence. She watches as her parents resist, as they halfheartedly attempt to negotiate. She watches as the strangers fight back. She listens as they murmur honeyed oaths and quiet threats through gritted teeth. Even as she watches her family give in, she does not say a word. She is powerless to do anything but watch.
Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old, and the whispers of champion mean nothing to her as they lead her brother away. They say that he will be a hero. A saviour. They tell her that his fate- his destiny- they say that it is written in the stars. Still, even as they tear Gillion away from her, she remains silent. She resists the urge to point out the obvious, to show these strangers what they cannot see: that her brother is not a weapon, not a tool, that he is not ready to be a champion. Because Gil is barely eight years old, with a tail that he has not yet grown into and hands too small to properly grasp the hilt of the blade they present him with. Because Gil is still a child.
Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old, and three months have passed since the day that her little brother left home. Three months have passed since the day that he was taken from her. Her fury has long given way to hopelessness and she is just one step away from giving up entirely. She is permitted to see Gillion just once a week, and she has no other choice but to comply, to count down the days until her next visit, because Edyn Tidestrider is a child, too, and even if she tried to speak, she knows that nobody would listen.
Edyn has learned to come prepared for the fleeting minutes she has been granted to spend with Gillion. So as she packs her satchel for the visit, she throws in an extra roll of bandages. Just in case.
Evening arrives, and the time comes for Edyn to set out to see her brother. Pinpricks of light swim through the water as lanternsharks and anglerfish dart between clusters of kelp and algae. On any other night, she might have stopped to appreciate the sight, but today, she refuses to be distracted. Every moment spent outside was a moment wasted, a moment she could be spending with Gil. She can almost feel the seconds slipping away as she follows the current toward the palace.
She hurries past the guard without so much as a glance in their direction, only pausing to allow them to open the gate. She confirms her identity with a brisk nod. Determination lines her face as she ventures into the depths of the palace.
It isn’t long before she arrives at Gillion’s new room. The door to his chamber is smaller than the others, a hastily carved block of stone which sharply contrasts the smooth, ornate marble which adorns the larger rooms. If Edyn didn’t know better, she would assume that it was the door to a storage cupboard. To the Elders, it might as well be.
Edyn lingers for a while at the door. She’s always apprehensive about entering Gillion’s room. For the first few visits, she was petrified at the very thought of meeting the Elders in person (though if she had half of Gillion’s bravery, she might have jumped at the chance to let out her hatred for them). Now, she thinks she might be more afraid at the thought of what could have happened to Gil in her absence.
Edyn reaches up, biting back a nervous whistle, and taps softly on the door. She is met at first by a tense silence, which seems to stretch on for far too long. She is just turning to leave when she registers the sound of a muffled thump , then stirring from within the chamber. Gillion’s voice answers her, quiet and scratchy. “Come in.”
Edyn frowns as her fingers fumble for the doorknob. A knot of dread lodges in her stomach at the delayed response. She pushes down her anxiety with a sharp flick of her tail and pushes the door open. It swings open slowly, releasing a sharp, grating noise when it drags against the floor.
She is immediately met by Gillion’s tiny form, stumbling into her arms. It’s all she can do to catch him, dropping gently to the floor. Gil grabs at her blindly. He latches onto his sister and curls one arm around her shoulder, burying his face into her neck. She can feel the warmth seeping across her collar as tears stream down his face.
Edyn leans back, letting out a long, shaking breath. She collects her thoughts, choking back tears of her own, and forces herself to sit up. Gillion inhales sharply at the sudden movement, and Edyn’s fingers card unconsciously through his tangled hair, stroking against the rounded stubs of coral. She murmurs words of reassurance in his ear as she guides him into a sitting position. Shifting her arm to support his back, Edyn can’t hold back a gasp at the sight of blood spattered across her arm, staining the creamy white with harsh cobalt blue.
The satchel is hanging loosely from Edyn’s arm, resting beneath Gil’s hand. A string of whispered apologies fall from her mouth as she prizes his clawed fingers away from her arm, hooking the bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got you,” she promises in what she hopes is a soothing tone, though the words do nothing to quell her own anxieties. “I’ve got you.”
Edyn turns her attention briefly to the buckles of Gillion’s chestplate. Her tail sweeps against the floor and her brow creases. After a short struggle, the straps peel away and Edyn is able to lift the chestplate off. Gil sighs deeply, settling into a more comfortable resting stance. The armour must be heavy, Edyn muses: Gillion had always been somewhat scrawny, and the chestplate appears to be at least two sizes too large, hanging off his delicate frame. Edyn sets the plate aside and focuses once more on her brother’s injury.
A deep gash stretches beneath Gillion’s ribcage, oozing a river of thick blood down his side. His chest is a patchwork of multicoloured, swollen bruises, stretching across his skin. “Okay,” Edyn breathes as she pulls a wad of bandages from her satchel, tipping out most of its other contents in the process: a few gauze swabs, more bandages, a small jar of lotion, a pocket knife and three waterproof scrolls. “Okay, I’m- I’m going to try to bandage this, it- tell me if it hurts too bad, okay?” Gillion nods wordlessly, eyes screwed shut.
Edyn loops the bandage around his neck, pulling it down to cover the wound and weaving it beneath his arm. Her movements are jerky and hesitant; her untrained hands struggle to wrap the wound. She tugs on the bandage, tightening the dressing.
Gillion’s face twists and his grip on Edyn’s wrist strengthens, claws digging into her skin. Beads of blood blossom from the puncture marks, but neither of them seem to notice as Edyn turns to face Gillion. The question is almost out of her mouth before he utters his answer. “Stop,” he hisses, wheezing. “Hurts- please-”
The bandages unravel beneath Edyn’s claws and Gillion chirps in relief. His breaths slow to a more natural rhythm. “Okay,” Edyn repeats. “Can you tell me where it hurt?”
Gillion points shakily to the bruising over the gash. “Couldn’t breathe… hurt.”
“That’s alright,” Edyn murmurs. “Thank you for telling me. You’re doing good.”
Gillion smiles, eyes creasing as he tilts his head to look at Edyn’s face. “Really?”
“So good,” Edyn affirms. “Does it- does it still hurt to breathe?”
Gillion experiments, breathing in more deeply. “Yeah,” he confirms, “it still hurts- not as bad as before, but it still…”
“Right. I- I think… I think you might have broken a rib? Or a few ribs? That- right, I don’t think I should bandage that, okay…” Edyn reaches for another wad of bandages and presses them against the cut. “Is that alright?”
Gillion nods. “That doesn’t hurt as bad. Um, having the- having the armour off helps too, I think.”
“That’s- that’s good, that’s good. Hold this in place?” she requests, and Gillion’s hand reaches up to clamp over the bandages. Blood has already soaked almost halfway through the wad. Edyn leans back to assess the injury. “Gil, can you do the- the ice magic you were showing me?”
Gillion’s face creases into a frown as he considers the question. “I think so,” he concludes at last, blinking down at the injury with an expression far too casual for a child as young as himself. Was he trying to hide the pain, Edyn wonders anxiously, or had he grown used to wounds of this nature? Countless scars are littered across his arms and torso, many standing dark against his skin, still in the process of healing. Edyn is pulled away from her thoughts by the sound of Gillion’s voice. “How much?”
It takes a moment for Edyn to remember what they had been talking about. “Just a little,” she responds, holding her hands apart in demonstration. “About this much.” Gillion nods again, and a small chunk of water solidifies next to her leg. She takes a large square cloth from the satchel and wraps the ice inside it, crushing it into smaller shards and tying the cloth into a knot around the glinting crystals.
“So.” Edyn takes the cloth from Gillion’s hand (and suppresses a shudder at the dark stain which has now soaked nearly all the way through). “Can you hold the ice in place? Just- put it where it hurts most, don’t push down too hard- that’s good…” She unscrews the jar of lotion and runs two fingers through it. “This is going to sting.”
Gillion gives a soft click in acknowledgement and braces himself. Edyn purrs- a deep, comforting rumble from the back of her throat. Gil purrs back with a higher, rougher tone, bumping his head against her shoulder. It’s painfully reminiscent of the years they spent together, and Edyn can almost pretend that everything is okay. Gil is safe, nobody is hurt, the Elders have never tried to interfere.
But the steady drip of blood on stone does not cease.
Edyn smoothes a dense layer of lotion across the gash. Gil winces, but does not complain. “What does that do?”
“Helps it to close quicker,” Edyn explains. “Stops other stuff from getting into it, too.”
“‘Kay.”
An empty silence falls over the room while Edyn works, ensuring that the cut is covered completely. At last, she sits back, satisfied with her work.
“Okay. That’s done. Any… any more injuries I should know about?”
Gillion mumbles some kind of affirmation. “Wrist.” His voice is thick with sleep; he seems barely conscious. His head has fallen down to rest upon his shoulder. His left hand is hovering awkwardly above the floor, twisted violently in an unnatural direction. Edyn almost gags at the sight, hand drifting up to cover her mouth.
“Oh, Gil…” she murmurs, taking his forearm in her hands. It’s difficult to move the arm without shifting the wrist, but she does the best she can, stretching her legs out in front of her and resting his arm on her knee. “How did this happen?”
“Fell,” Gillion responds tiredly. “Tried t’ catch myself, an’ then…”
Edyn buries her face in her hands and exhales.
“I- I’m going to try to wrap this, but I’m… I’m going to need to move your wrist, okay?”
Gil’s eyes shoot open, widened by panic. “Y-you- you don’t need to do that- I- I’m okay! Can’t… can’t we just let it heal by- by itself?”
“I’m sorry, Gil,” Edyn whispers, blinking rapidly, “we can’t do that. It’s not gonna heal right if we do.”
“Oh,” Gil replies. His voice breaks slightly. “Okay. You can- you can do it, then.” He curls into himself and allows Edyn to take his hand. She holds onto the limp fingers delicately, then moves her right hand to support the twisted wrist.
“Three… two… one…”
Edyn twists.
And Gillion screams.
Gillion has never been one to react to pain. Even as the Elders forced him through trial after trial, he always bit back the tears, waited until Edyn’s next visit to release them. But now, as his wrist gives a sickening crack, Gillion’s shrieks echo around the empty chamber, ringing in Edyn’s ears. It takes at least a minute for the agonised wails to subside, but nobody comes running to see what had happened to their champion. The hallways maintain their stony silence.
For Edyn, this is the breaking point. Tears spring up in her eyes. She can no longer hold them back, and so she stops trying. Her vision blurs in and out of focus as faltering hands attempt to wrap her brother’s wrist. Silently, she thanks the gods that the snapped bone has not broken through the skin. “I’m sorry,” she hisses, over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry…”
“‘S okay, Dee,” Gillion forces out between laboured breaths. He reaches out with his other hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, but his hand is trembling so violently that it misses completely, instead brushing against the side of her face. “‘S okay.”
“But- but it’s not!” Edyn chokes before she can stop herself. “It’s not, because they’re- because they’re going to k-kill you if they keep on doing this, and- and…”
“They won’t,” Gil rasps with a helpless smile, tucking Edyn’s hair behind her ear, and for a second Edyn feels like the child in this situation.
(Because she should be. Because they both should be. Because that is what they are- two children, forced by the world to grow up far too fast, but still children nonetheless.)
“They won’t,” Gil repeats hoarsely with a painful smile, “‘cause they need a Champion. ‘N they say I’m the only one they can find. So they can’t kill me.”
“But you shouldn’t have to be the Champion,” Edyn spits, rubbing harshly at the tears still pooling in her eyes. “It’s- it’s not fair, and you shouldn’t have to go through this, and- and if it’s your destiny to be this hero, then- then you’ll be a hero anyway, and you shouldn’t have to do this training at all! And- and especially not with the Elders, and especially not when things like- things like this keep on happening!”
“It- it hurts right now, yeah. But- but it’s… I need to do it, Dee! ‘Cause… ‘cause I need to know how to be strong, an’ to fight, an’- an’ to… I’m gonna help a lot of people! The- the Elders said… they said I’m gonna do good things, and save the Undersea, and help everyone who needs it, but- but I can’t do that if I can’t fight for them, so… so I gotta…”
“You don’t need to do anything, Gil.” The lashing of Edyn’s tail betrays her anger. Her voice quivers. Gillion shrinks away at the poorly-disguised hint of hatred in her tone; his fins press back against his skull, tilted downward in submission.
Edyn softens, though the hatred still burns deep within her chest. “I’m sorry, Gil,” she says, glancing down at his hand. The roll of bandages had run out quickly. Without a second’s thought, Edyn tears a sleeve off her shirt and uses it to finish binding the wound. “I’m not angry at you. I just… I hate seeing you like this. You shouldn’t have to be the Champion. And I’m sorry I let this happen.”
“I don’t think I got much of a choice.” Gillion watches Edyn tying off the bandage. “I don’t think either of us did.”
“No,” Edyn sighs, “I guess we didn’t.” Ripping the other sleeve from her shirt, she begins to fashion a sling from the cotton, slicing the fabric into two long strips with the knife and knotting them together.
“This should work for now.” She slips the loop of cotton over Gil’s torso and manoeuvres his arm carefully into the sling. “I’d use a splint if I had one, but… just try not to move your arm too much, okay?”
Gillion stares back at her blankly. “But… training?”
“Your ribs are broken, Gil! And how are you meant to hold a sword when your wrist is in a sling?”
Gil shrugs. “The Elders talk about endurance a lot. They say- they say that a Champion can’t feel pain, not… not while there are still more people to save. And there’s always more people to save, so…”
“Surely they’ll make an exception, they can’t- ”
“I- I don’t know, Edyn, the Elders don’t like making exceptions…”
“But it’s impossible-”
“I- I’m already doing bad, Edyn! And… and they said- they said if I don’t get better, they-” Gillion curls into himself- “they aren’t going to let me see you any more! So I need to keep training!”
Edyn steps back. She tries to answer, but finds that she can not.
“...Try to get some rest, Gil. I’m going to have to go soon.”
She helps Gillion to stand. He clings onto her like he’ll shatter the moment he lets go.
Together, they make their way over to the bed. It’s a small, hard slab of stone that matches his door, decorated with a few patchy blankets in various shades of beige. In the centre of the slab, a small pink frogtopus waits.
“Pretzel,” Gillion chirps sleepily, stroking the little creature. Pretzel grasps onto his finger and swings with ease into the palm of his hand, chirruping. Gil shifts her onto his shoulder while Edyn lifts him into the bed, placing him on top of the nest of blankets.
“Night, Edyn,” Gillion whispers, reaching up to twine his fingers through hers.
“Goodnight, Guppy. Sleep well.”
Edyn kneels by her brother’s bedside for a few sacred minutes, running her fingers through his hair and watching him sleep. Eventually, a guard trudges down to Gillion’s room to summon Edyn. The door shuts, the lock clicks. Edyn has no choice but to go home. Her heart is heavier than the moment she stepped through the door just thirty minutes ago.
Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old, and her hands have learned how to dress a wound better than most adults she knows. She knows to bring extra bandages when she visits her little brother, but they still run out every time. She is the one to teach Gillion how to read, how to write, how to solve basic equations. She is the one who shows him that he is more than a weapon. She is the one who shows him how to love.
Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old, and she has been forced to grow up far too fast, to raise a child, because nobody else would. She doesn’t quite know how the world works yet, but she seems to see what nobody else does, regardless. She has no choice but to hide her fear as she tucks her brother into bed because her responsibility for him must always come first. She loves him and protects him in every way she knows how, and yet her efforts will never amount to anything; she can never keep him safe.
Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old, and she prays every night to the moon because she knows that nobody else will listen. She prays that Lunadeyis protects her chosen Champion, even as she hates the goddess for casting this burden on her little Gil. She prays and she hopes and she pours out everything she has for her brother and even as she gives everything she has to protect him, she knows that she will never make a difference. She knows that she cannot alter Gillion’s destiny, and so she hopes and she prays and she loves, clinging onto the chance that someone else may come, someone with the strength to divert destiny’s path, someone who can save them both.
But for now, Edyn Tidestrider is fourteen years old. A child forced to grow up too fast, a child pouring herself out for her brother, a child waiting for someone who can do what she has failed to do.
So even now, after all is said and done, Edyn Tidestrider does not speak.