Forever Fated

Chapter 1

Xeni

            Maybe it’s the wind, I silently tell myself. The sound is coming from the other room. A low moaning sound.

            Yeah, it’s the wind, I confirm, turning over onto my side. I burrow my face into the lumpy pillow, trying to ignore it.

            For a few moments, it stops. Sleep starts to drag me back down. I’m not going to fight it. Sleep is something I sorely need.

Then, I hear it again. Somewhat muffled this time, but it’s there. My eyes fly open and I listen carefully.

            It’s not going away.

            It’s not the wind.

            It’s the person in the other room. And I can’t ignore him.

            Flicking the covers back, I push my feet into my worn-out slippers and pad my way out of my tiny room into the living area. Dad hasn’t slept in his own bed for months now, preferring the comfy chair by the window.

            Judging by the light outside the small living room window, it’s not quite dawn. The world outside is dark. Even the distant roar of the sea seems subdued.

            Dad is sitting in his chair. His blanket has fallen off him and he writhes slowly, the familiar spasms of pain coursing through his thin body.

            “Dad?” I whisper, crossing the room and gently touching his shoulder. “Hey, Dad? What’s going on?”

            His eyes flicker open and his expression changes. “Hey, kiddo…”

            “Dad, you were moaning again.”

            He waves me off, but I can tell he’s putting on a brave face. “Nah, probably just the wind.”

            We both know that’s a lie.

            “Dad. Come on, let me get you your tea.”

            Weakly, he tries to protest, but I give him one sharp glance and he stops. Moments later, I have the tiny kettle settled on the stove, his blue chipped mug nearby.

            As I scoop out the tea leaves from the tin, I notice how low our supply is getting. Soon, I’ll have to ask the medicine woman for more.

            How we’ll pay for that is another question. One I can’t think about just now. She is kind, but she’s extended us so many favors already. I fear we might be taking advantage.

            Still, Dad’s pain persists. Its origin is mysterious but the effects dictate my father’s life. And mine.

            He can no longer work. Months before, he spent his days fixing up the fishing boats of Hemir, the human settlement here on the island of Berok, where we live here on the island. Known for miles around for his ability to fix any boat no matter the condition, my father is a legend in his own right.

            Until recently. Now, his hands shake uncontrollably, and he can’t stand for more than a few minutes at a time. Pain wracks him almost every night and leaves him exhausted during the day.

            Which leaves most of the chores and the business of keeping us both fed to me. His only child. Good thing I’ve paid attention to him most of my life and not followed in the path of the other girls that live here.

            If I had, who knows who might be looking after my father right about now…

            “Here you go, Dad,” I say, placing the mug in his hands. Wisps of steam rise up from it. He inhales them deeply before taking a slow sip. For a few moments we both wait, letting the tea do its work.

            We both exhale as his muscles start to relax, his breathing easing. Whatever is in that tea is downright miraculous. But I’ve noticed that its effects are becoming less and less potent, wearing out quicker each time.

            Soon, it won’t work at all. If we don’t find out what’s making Dad ill, I don’t know what lies ahead.

            “Thanks, kiddo. You should go back to bed. It’s not even dawn yet.”

            I lean on the weathered kitchen table. Well, the only table we own. Built from driftwood, my fingers find the familiar knot at its end and curl around it. This habit is a curious quirk I’ve had since childhood.

            “In a minute. Just want to see that you’re okay,” I reply.

            He takes another sip and puts the mug in his lap. Sighing, he looks up at me, his gray eyes watery with receding pain.

            “I’m sorry, Zee. You shouldn’t be having to do all this. Taking care of your old man like this---”

            I raise my hand in protest, trying to stop this dance before it starts. “Dad. We’ve talked about this. No need to apologize. You took care of me. Now it’s my turn.”

            He looks down to his mug, his shoulders slumping. “I know, but it’s not right. Your mother---”

            “She can’t help either one of us now, Dad. Let her rest,” I snap, instantly regretting my anger.

            Inside, I scold myself. Dad is a grieving man. My mother died years ago now, but he’s never gotten over it. For a while, I thought we had moved on. We did our best to keep her memory alive but not stay lost in the hole her absence created. We figured out how to live.

            Then, Dad got sick, and he regressed to a place of pity and self-loathing. All because his daughter must care for him and not his wife.

            Changing my tone, I lay a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Dad. We look out for each other. You know you’d do the same.”

            With a sad smile, he looks up at me once more and nods. Pulling his blanket from the floor, I dust it off and drape it around him, tucking it around his body.

            Giving another nod of thanks, he settles back into an uneasy sleep. I tiptoe out of the room.

            When I close my door, however, I already know that sleep for me is now out of the question. I’m too wired, too antsy.

            Dawn will be here soon and with it, another day. I should take advantage.

            Crossing the room, I bend down. Pulling a long, rectangular wooden box from under my bed, I place it on the mattress. A hook keeps the box closed. Flipping it, I open the lid and the smell of musty wood fills my nostrils.

            Inside, the scrolls lie waiting. My secret, silent friends.

            Maps. They are of the waters of the Ocean Kingdom. Carefully, I extract the smallest one and unfurl it, my hands stroking the papery surface.

            The riot in my brain begins to calm as I let my eyes wander over the markings on the map. Familiar and strange, I feel time fall away as I wait for the dawn.