Freedom was a luxury. Human as she was, it wasn't hers to claim.

The blame had trickled down, over time, and she'd run through every guilty candidate one by one. Whatever unforgiving furs shackled her soul were obvious. Glittering crystal was a favorite, innocent and pure. She hated blaming that one at all, and it was the only beauty that remained in a place so constricted. She could fault the mountains. She could fault fate. She could fault every God that saw fit to steal all she had.

The third instance shouldn't have hit as hard as it did. She was used to the process, by now. They'd pared down their belongings last time, at least, and fleeing in the dead of night was easier. It was for the best that they beat those who would come after, lest they be tangled up in throngs just as terrified. They had more room to run and less moonlight to share--faulty lungs be damned. Her grandmother wasn't fast. The rugged terrain was unforgiving, and Viola lamented tugging her across aimless mountain passes towards whatever false haven would have them.

They'd been quick enough to avoid the screaming, for once. It was one saving grace. Singing insects were louder than even her sobs. She'd been proud of herself that night.

It wasn't that Viola had expected it to happen again. Part of her had, maybe, and she might've been in denial. Most of what she owned had never left her backpack, even as her grandmother did what she could to forge a warm home thrice over. Glissanda was sweet. Giving it up was miserable. Just the same as all else, it was a luxury she couldn't keep.

"Where do you…want to go?"

Viola probably should've been helping with bundling the fruit. She stared, mostly, and her grandmother did the work. "We'll go west. The florist mentioned a place roughly two days' travel from here."

"You can't keep sleeping outside," Viola insisted. "You're going to get sick."

"I'll be alright. I'm more worried about you, my love."

If nothing else, she put fidgeting fingers to use on whatever blossoming pots adorned the windowsill. As to where she'd safely abandon them again, Viola hadn't yet decided. "I'm fine. Do you…know what the next settlement is called?"

Her grandmother shook her head, never once raising her eyes from the little fruits. "I don't."

Viola hesitated. "Is it…near a rubato vein?"

It was her grandmother that was silent in her place. When she spoke, it wasn't a surprise. "Yes."

Even so, the growl was instinctive. It was more so at the world than anything, and Viola regretted if it came out otherwise. "Why?"

Her grandmother flinched, with or without her focus left on the table. Now she felt bad. "That is…to be expected, dear."

Viola tried to rein in her tone, somewhat. It almost worked. "Let's go south, or something! If we leave the mountain range, wouldn't we be fine? This wouldn't keep happening!"

"There are Naturals everywhere," she countered softly.

Viola was anything but soft in return. "But not the mines," she almost snapped. "Or the crystals. They can't have everything."

"I don't know where we would go, should we leave the mountains," her grandmother confessed.

"We don't know where we're going, anyway! We're just guessing!"

One bunch of rounded fruits came bunched neatly within swaddling fabrics, bound by twine and sealed with a sigh. Her grandmother reached for the peppers with a second heavy breath close behind. "This is all I have ever known. To surrender it is to let them win."

"Grandmother, they're already winning," Viola argued. "They hurt, and they steal, and they kill. That's what they do. You know that."

"This is where I--"

"You know that," Viola repeated through gritted teeth.

She didn't bother holding back the second sigh. "I don't enjoy it any more than you do, my love."

"I don't want to run again."

"I know."

"No, I mean it. I don't want to run again," Viola echoed sharply, setting a flowerpot down onto the table with far too much force. She was fairly certain the porcelain cracked in the process. Discarded as it would soon be, she didn't dwell on it. "We can't keep doing this forever."

"Viola," her grandmother said, simply and softly.

"I can't keep doing this forever," Viola clarified, one trembling hand clutching at her chest. "I can't live like this."

"That's--"

"I'm not just going to spend my whole life afraid of them. If you want to keep this up, then I can't stop you. I don't want to be a part of it."

"Vi--"

She hated the way her voice cracked. "I can't do this."

For all of her best attempts to bind them, what tears Viola had stored through desperate flights and bloody sights burned hot. They came fast, stinging her cheeks as she fumbled for her backpack. She nearly stumbled on her way out the door, and flashing sunlight was infinitely warmer than whatever cold came with imprisonment. She was vaguely aware of her grandmother calling for her all the way out. For what chains that submission would've come with, she grasped at the tiniest freedom she could find while she still had it.

---

There was a secondary sorrow that came with another kind of fleeing. Drinking in what remained of Glissanda hurt. Viola had adored the flowers, in passing. She'd loved the merchants, and the tiny culture was wonderful. For such a small settlement, it thrived beautifully. If she closed her eyes and fought with all she had, she could forget about the crystals nestled so deeply in the mountains underfoot. To breach the borders of Glissanda, thin as they were, only left her burdened with the latter. There were no mines yet. In less than weeks, there would be.

She chanced a look over her shoulder, once she had the distance to do so. From afar, crowned by pastel greenery and chilling winds, the settlement was almost pristine. The mere concept of rolling hills being desecrated by greed and gaping holes was miserable. Viola swore she wouldn't cry twice. If she could bore into the earth herself, shattering every forsaken rubato crystal on her way down, she would do so in an instant. Innocent rainbows be damned, whatever kept her from surrendering another inch of land to malicious paws was worth it.

They hadn't taken the lake. Why they would ever need it in the first place was beyond her, and Viola doubted water was as precious of a resource to those who had it all. This, at least, she could claim--for now.

She'd confided in it enough. She'd probably filled it with her tears more than was necessary. It was a habit she desperately needed to curb. Wavering grasses kissed her ankles, and Viola submitted to the leafy sea that came with nature's embrace. Glissanda was a distant dot on her horizon, and she was left with the lakebed for company. Gentle winds were a secondary comfort, as was sunshine and solitude. In a way, alone beneath the open sky, placid waters were the closest she would come to a safe haven. She'd never bothered telling her grandmother about it. More than any part of Glissanda, this might've been the worst to give up. Already, Viola mourned.

She curled up at the foot of the lake, settling down into her grassy ocean and sliding her backpack into the sod with a thump. Viola tucked her knees up to her chest, flipping the canvas flap and rummaging for the only piece of salvation that mattered. That, too, the Naturals could never steal away.

She didn't bother checking for wandering eyes--human ones, anyway. Were they something else, she wouldn't have had the energy to be afraid anymore. With care and a drive that had long since grown instinctive, she raised the flute to her lips. She played.

In the open air, her song was clear and glimmering. It matched with the water, in that way, and her heart was all the more satisfied for it. Viola caught every last sparkle of spilling sunlight above, the same shine compensating for happiness she couldn't make. What aimless melody she wove wrapped her up and hugged her tight, squeezing her heart in a different way altogether. She was fine with that one.

If she tipped her head towards the sky, she could send each note sailing high into perfect blue. They might've reached him, wherever his spirit was. She chose the song he liked, today. If she let wishful thinking win, Viola could blame sunny warmth on his smile. He would've liked the lake.

She tried not to dwell on his face, lest her melody wobble more than it already did. Physically shaking it out of her head mid-breath was difficult, as was blinking the tears out of her blurring eyes. Soft satisfaction grew threatened by sorrow, and that wasn't the point. She was getting good at collecting catalysts for that, unfortunately.

Viola closed her eyes altogether. That did something, at least. She forewent the bounty of nature in favor of the dark and a song alone, swirling thoughts be damned. She'd left her clothes behind, and she hadn't packed food. Ideally, that was enough for her grandmother to realize she wasn't serious--for now. At the moment, isolation took priority. Distraction took priority, and the liberation that came with a hint of control was urgent.

"Beautiful."

Her fingers jerked to a halt, and her breath hitched in her throat. Viola's eyes shot open in turn. When her head snapped to the right, she was no longer alone. She jumped, kicking herself over the handful of heartbeats that skipped painfully by. For all of her affirmations of fearlessness, there was a twinge of panic that came with the concept of a Natural at her side. Viola was wrong about that much, devoid of fur as he was. It didn't make his presence any less confusing.

She hadn't so much as heard him approach. Even now, the wind alone served to interrupt her startled heartbeat and severed song, still fizzling out in the open air. He eyed her from above, the wispy whites atop his head capturing much the same breeze. Viola could only stare back.

When she was quiet, still holding her useless breath, he tilted his head in the slightest. "You needn't have stilled your song."

Hesitantly, Viola's eyes flickered to the flute grasped in two tight hands. She hadn't realized she was gripping it that firmly to begin with. Even now, she stayed silent.

His voice was soft. He never once raised it. Gentle and firm all at once, he matched with the delicate gusts that still entangled her. "Have I startled you?"

Viola was almost afraid to admit it. Slowly, she lowered her arms, the flute settling neatly into her lap. "Who are you?"

For how little time she'd truly spent in Glissanda, she could hardly call herself an expert on the culture--let alone its residents. Still, what vivid patterns adorned him didn't match those she'd grown used to. They were beautiful in their own right, colorful and foreign in equal measure. Enveloped in streaming sunshine that fell to grace his skin, his steadfast presence was almost aglow. Viola probably should've been more intimidated than she actually was.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

One hand rose to touch upon his heart. "I am Cielto," he began, "and your song is lovely."

Viola blinked. He hardly smiled. Still, the warmth in his tone felt genuine enough. "T-Thank you," she stammered.

"And would you give me the pleasure of your name, as well?" he asked.

She didn't dwell on it for long. That, too, she should've probably considered harder. "Viola. Vacanti," she added quickly.

"Viola," he repeated. "Wonderful."

She straightened up somewhat. "How did you find me? No one ever comes this way."

The man gestured towards the languishing flute with one unhurried palm. "Your melody guided my path with ease. Is it really so surprising?"

Viola bit her lip. The revelation was almost embarrassing, and she kicked herself for not having considered the obvious immediately. She deflected. "I'm sorry if it bothered you."

He shook his head, the same fluffy ivory brushing against his cheeks in the process. "Not at all. What has brought you so far from your home? You are alone in this place, are you not?"

She scoffed. "I barely have a home anymore."

"How do you mean?" Cielto asked.

As with so much else, she shouldn't have been this comfortable. The pendulum between fear and apathy swung inwards once more, and she ceased to care. "The Naturals run us out of everywhere we go. They want the rubato crystals in the mountains. Maybe it's our fault for living here, I don't know. Still, how many mines could you possibly need? We can't have anything for ourselves?"

He hummed in soft understanding. "They would take so much from the earth?"

"And there's that," Viola agreed, more than exasperated. Gesturing towards distant, spearing peaks was fruitless, if not reflexive. "All they do is ruin everything they touch. It's nothing but greed, is what it is. They're vile. My grandmother and I have had to run from them twice. When they come, they don't do it peacefully. If there's resistance, they snuff it out. We've…tried."

Only when the man eyed her expectantly did she begin to regret her trust. Viola followed through regardless, running one absentminded fingertip along what dirt rose to meet it. "We paid the price for it. My father did, anyway."

Cielto was quiet. If it was out of courtesy, she appreciated it. Viola wasn't sure what possessed her to continue at all. "And now, they're going to do it again. We found out this morning. We have to…leave again. I don't know where we'll go next."

"By which they would rend this land asunder in your wake," he added, just as quiet.

"That settlement is perfect. I love it there," Viola said with more hurt than she'd intended to let slip. "It doesn't deserve that. None of this should be happening. I don't want to live like this. I'm tired of running all the time, and I'm tired of living in nothing but constant fear that the same thing is going to happen again. My grandmother might be fine with it, but I can't take it anymore."

She was spilling her frustrations to a complete stranger. Even as it dawned on her, it wasn't enough to make her stop. It wasn't enough to impede his kindness, in turn. "I deeply apologize for all you have suffered. The world has been unkind to you."

Viola swallowed what misplaced ire she had left. Eventually, she sighed. "It's…fine. I just feel like there's more to life than this."

"There is," Cielto reassured, still content to offer her calm eyes from on high. "Even so, this world remains burdened by great evils. The transgressions of the greedy are but one of many."

Viola matched his calm with confusion of her own. "Great…evils?"

Ever so slowly, he tilted his head in the other direction. "How sincere is your drive to walk another path, Viola? Something beyond self-preservation?"

Her eyes widened. For a moment, sudden as the question came, she wasn't sure that she'd heard him correctly at all. "I-I'd…do whatever I had to. Anything would be better than this."

Again, he paused. When he straightened his shoulders and steadied his gaze, his presence was almost powerful. It wasn't quite enough to leave her intimidated. Once more, his hand found his heart, and he gave the tiniest of bows. "Please allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Cielto, one of the sages of creation. I have a task to entrust to you, that you would serve to purify this world."

Viola thought he was joking, at first. He was monotone enough about it that the entire endeavor was awkward. When the man never laughed, nor teased, she only raised an eyebrow. "A…sage? What task?"

The baffled look that she could physically feel on her face didn't faze him. "It is as I have spoken. There is a great evil which threatens this world. Your aid is key, and the same could be said of the one with whom you are destined to bond."

That look was getting worse, possibly. "I'm not following. Bond?"

Cielto paused. Simple or not, what he gave her made no more sense. "Find your soulmate, born of two worlds."

She cycled the words in her head. They made just as little sense the third, fourth, and fifth times over. Her singular conclusion was a gamble, partially. Her life was dominated by that which was pure, made exclusively of flesh or fur. With certainty, there were those forged in both. She'd been told as much. For as much time as she'd spent running, Viola hadn't once been blessed enough to stand still and search.

"I've…never seen those before," she admitted. "Did you say soulmate? Mine?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"How would I even begin to figure that out?" Viola asked, more befuddled with every word out of his mouth. "Where do I even go? What do they look like?"

"You will know."

That cleared up nothing. She was starting to think he really was joking.

"Cielto, right?" she tried. "I don't…know what I'm doing. I know I said I wanted something else, but I don't think you've got the right person for this. If you're messing with me, this isn't very funny."

He chuckled. It was a first, as airy and warm as the rest of him. "I assure you, I mean as I say. I have not chosen wrong, and you will not be alone. There are others, tasked much the same."

"With finding a soulmate?" Viola pressed. "How many people did you pull into this?"

It came out far too casual. She resisted the urge to clamp one hand over her mouth. In lieu of offense, the man only smiled. That, too, was nice. "Go, now. When the time is right, we will meet again."

Admittedly, she was lost. Viola was afraid to tell him that much, just as she was afraid to call out to him as he turned on his heel. One outstretched hand did little to slow his departure as he stole steps into rustling grass. "Cielto--"

"One last thing."

Her pleading fingers curled inwards. "Um…yes?"

He never turned to face her. Even so, his voice was clear as crystal upon the wind. "Luce del Sole, Piano. Hold those words close, should you both need them."

Viola tested them on her lips, inexplicable as they were. It was to her detriment that yet further confusion left her eyes drifting into the grass beneath her knees. She raised her head far too late. "Wait, what does that--"

The man was gone. She blinked. She blinked again, and she was still just as alone in a field of green. His voice still lingered in her ears, although the breeze and ruffled sprouts below had since mostly replaced it. Cielto left her with only a tranquil lake and a silent flute, sunshine flooding the empty patch of grass where he'd once stood. Viola couldn't so much as make out footprints, nor crushed flora at all.

There was a non-zero chance she'd fallen asleep on the lakebed, exhausted by emotion in every way. If she'd awoken at last, it would've made far more sense. She didn't remember lying down. By comparison, she remembered everything that was unreasonable.

Freedom was freedom, teasing or otherwise. Even if he'd been joking, it was a spark she couldn't ignore. Captive to fate as she'd so helplessly been, Viola could at least do him the grace of taking his words as a sign.

---

Where the mountains had been her grandmother's home, they had been hers, much the same. Logically, there should've been something bittersweet about surrendering the snow-drenched peaks of winter and the tumbling hills she'd once treasured the sunset atop of. Instead, Viola found no sweetness at all, and only the same bitter flavor filled her mouth. In a way, she was almost eager to turn her back on the landscape, for as much as she regretted shirking Glissanda.

Most of what she still owned wasn't important enough to account for. Clothes were fine, sparse or not. Food was essential, and she snuck what of that she could into her backpack. She had so few mementos of merit, aside from the only one that mattered. It wasn't as though the flute ever left her side to begin with, nestled deep beneath blue fabrics and bunched rations.

She'd contemplated the letter for hours. She'd revised it for at least twice that. Ultimately, nothing she said would soften the blow. Just as she lamented forsaking Glissanda, Viola lamented forsaking the only Vacanti left to share her pain. She'd be adding onto hers in turn, probably. There were no other options left.

The moonlight she had to work with was enough. She'd gotten excellent at letting it guide her path, and Viola had no doubt that the starry sky would serve her well. For once, she'd be embracing it by choice. They would've left the next night, anyway, if she was remembering correctly. One way or another, she'd end up drowning in the darkness of a mountain range, fumbling in the dark for hope.

She hardly had to fumble for the table. Seeping moonlight through window panes was helpful long before she'd stepped into the night. She took the softest footsteps she could, laying the little sheet of parchment to rest atop the wood. There should've been tears to go with it. She couldn't find any to leave behind.

Viola turned on her heel as quietly as was possible, the softest creak against the floorboards enough to make her heart skip a beat. There was a chance that sorrow was blunted by adrenaline, gentle as it still burned. That much remained to be seen, and it would hopefully keep her warm in the chill of the summer evening.

"Viola."

She jumped high enough that she nearly stumbled, her heart plummeting into her stomach. She didn't dare turn around, at first, gripping the straps of her backpack for comfort she couldn't find. So, too, was she powerless to find words.

"Where are you…going?" she heard softly.

Viola did, at least, find the tears. It was a relief, given that she'd started to fear she'd lost them altogether. She held back what she could, content to let them bubble uselessly at the corners of her eyes. "I…need to leave. I can't stay here."

"Why not?"

Whether or not she looked, she could hear the hurt. It was quiet, and yet surely worse than her own. Viola tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat. "You know why. This isn't what I want to do. I can't deal with this for the rest of my life."

"Viola, no matter where you go, there will always be--"

"You won't even try to find something better!" Viola snapped, turning in full. "You won't even try! I can't make you go, but you can't make me stay, either! I'm not spending every second I have on the run from them! I won't!"

She wasn't the only one in tears. She'd managed to hold hers for slightly longer. The moment Viola caught sight of those that were far more bitter, she gave up trying. Now, they matched.

Choking back her sobs was agonizing. Steadying her voice was harder, and she couldn't quite manage. It was enough to get by, and pain softened her tone by default. "There's more out there. There's places they don't want. There's places they don't care about. The rubato crystals are here, but they're not everywhere. I'm not stupid. I know I can't avoid them forever. Still, I could have a home. I could have somewhere safe to sleep, and somewhere I know that they won't try to take from me. Is that really so much to ask?"

Her grandmother only met her with a hurt gaze and streaming tears. "Not at all," she murmured.

Viola locked eyes with the same, blurring vision or otherwise. Speaking through shuddering gasps was miserable. "Don't you want that, too?"

"I do," her grandmother almost whispered.

"Then come with me," Viola pleaded, her voice cracking.

And still, she shook her head. "This is my home, dear. You know that. This is all that I am, and I love this land too much to let it go. I…can't."

"I don't want what happened to father to happen to you," she interrupted quickly. "Please."

Of all things, through her sorrow, the woman's lips curved upwards into a wobbling smile. "I'm far more worried about you. You're every bit as rebellious as he was. Without a doubt, you are his daughter."

What sobs slipped through were utterly impossible to restrain. "I'm so sorry."

Even as she stood stagnant in a faltering home, fists clenched as her soul shattered to pieces, the arms that wrapped around Viola were so desperately needed. The idea of giving them up broke her more than Glissanda could ever. Her grandmother nestled her face into the crook of Viola's neck, smothering the girl with all of the love one touch could offer. "I could never be sorry enough for the life you were condemned to. You deserve better than this, my love."

Fast hands closed around the woman's back, and Viola hugged just as tightly. She burned every last scent and texture into her head, etching the same love into the depths of her heart while she had it. "You deserve better, too."

"I've chosen my path," her grandmother said, "and you have chosen yours. Know that I will pray for your happiness every day of my life."

Viola eased away from her, straightening up slightly as she smeared her tears against her sleeve. "There's…something I have to do. After that, I promise I'll find you. We'll…figure something out. I swear."

One aging hand rose to cradle her cheek. "You'll do wonderfully. May the bluest skies above watch over you. Find happiness, my dear."

Viola sniffled. "I love you."

"And I you, with all of my heart and soul."

Where surrendering freedom had crushed her, surrendering an embrace was worse. Viola was fine forsaking a home that had hardly been hers to hold in the first place. She would've gladly given up Glissanda ten times over. To leave love behind was a nightmare, and she was guilty of second-guessing herself all the way out the door. She outright sprinted, lest slow footsteps and anything less than a bang behind her leave doubt chasing at her heels. That might've been worse than the Naturals.

Her one saving grace was the helpful starlight she'd grown so used to. As had grown far too familiar, Viola followed where they led, and she ran until fragile lungs threatened to burst. Freedom was fuel where oxygen failed. It kept her going for as long as the moon could shine.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.