#ellere valahan

Soul
Noun; a person’s deeply felt moral and emotional nature

Character(s): Ellere Valahan

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It was never a simple thing to say farewell. Goodbyes were hard. Even those that were necessary. 

Ellere had felt her life held far too many goodbyes. Sometimes it certainly felt as if there had been more of them than there ever had been happy greetings. She remembers the look on her father’s face as she and her mother boarded the ship to Vylbrand. She remembers the tears her brother cried as he asked her why, why she had to go.

Ellere remembers the way her mother left, too. Quiet and gentle, as if falling asleep. She had not even formed the word, any word. There was no goodbye, no farewell.

She remembered the way the ship looked, red sails catching the morning sun. A fleeting happiness leaving with it. A happiness built on a lie, but one nonetheless. That goodbye had been louder. That goodbye was pain and anger.

She had been married. Then said goodbye, too. Ellere had given herself in all ways she could. And the man had chosen to chase ghosts, to become one himself. There had been no spoken goodbye that time, either. The farewell was a silent emptiness. Cold.

So many people had passed through her life, and on. Friends, co-workers. Things seemed so fleeting. 

And then she had died. Or perhaps, she was supposed to have. For a long time Ellere had been troubled by all the goodbyes. But after she herself had almost been forced to say it from her own lips, to watch those few that still cared feel as she did…

She could find strength in one last goodbye.

The box was a simple one. She had buried it in her wardrobe such a long time ago it now seemed. She remembered pulling it from underneath a pile of blankets, blowing off a collection of dust that had gathered.

Ellere had withdrawn the item inside hoping for answers. Hoping to find herself. Her mother’s astrolobe. For years she had used it. It had served her in protecting those she loved. Sometimes it felt as if her mother, through it was still protecting her. That some part of her yet remained if she could but hold onto it.

It had been the same with the stone. It was almost funny, Ellere would admit. She had denied her worth to it for so long, keeping it hidden in a bedside drawer. That was her mother’s. That was one part she dared not use. But now it was gone. The stone that carried the memories, the gentle wishes of a woman whose name she bore, her mother’s, was taken from her hand just when she had accepted all it meant.

But it was not necessary. Neither it, nor the weapon were necessary any longer.

Ellere tucked the globe back into its box. A white silk lining folding around the delicate edges of the carvings and foci. Her fingers trailed lightly across the intricate feathers of the bird that adorned the outside.

In the center, Ellere laid to rest the shattered pieces of the soulstone as well, dull and forever quiet now. All but one piece remained, the last still lying under the tree planted near the grave on the Isle of Valahan.

Then, she carefully closed the lid of the box, returning it to the safety of the wardrobe. As she closed the wooden doors, Ellere leaned her head against the coolness of the cabinet. 

It was time to say goodbye. Saint Ellere deserved rest. Her mother deserved rest. She deserved rest.

Her entire life she wished she could have been someone like her mother. She honed her magic, strived to do what she believed her mother would have done had she not been taken as early as she was. Ellere had been constantly afraid, living under her mother’s shadow.

It had taken time to realize what it had been. Her mother had given her the name of a saint, a saint. And there had been a weight on her shoulders without her ever knowing.

She had spent so long trying to be these people. These wonderous women who she had looked up to, admired. But she would never be them. The weapon, the shattered stone, neither were truly the essence of either of them. But she had clung to them as if they had been. The last pieces of a soul she missed terribly.

It was not sad, she found, not truly. It hadn’t been like the tear-stained face of her brother, the quiet, final smile of her mother. The deep and aching loneliness that came from watching a dream sail away. Or the chilling feeling of waking to an empty bed.

It was time to say farewell to that which remained. She would still carry her mother, even Saint Ellere, in her heart. But she needed to stop aspiring to be them. She needed to find her own way.

It was one last farewell, one last goodbye. In doing so, however, she could finally turn and greet herself anew. Introduce herself to the Ellere who lived, not the Ellere that had been fated to die. The Ellere who could be strong enough herself. The Ellere that was not bound by the weight of her name, or her grief. 

It was never an easy thing. 

But as she stepped toward the open bedroom window, looking up to the stars, she smiled. It was enough, for now.

Foster
Verb; encourage or promote the development of
Character(s): Ellere Valahan

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With how quiet the estate’s library was, she really should have been able to hear the approaching footfalls. But Ellere was far too engrossed in her book. She was almost to her favorite part. The part where the valiant knight had finally found the captured maiden. 

A hand came down on one side, striking the table with force enough to make a crack, and Ellere jumped, letting out a startled scream. She looked up, and up, following the long arm of her father leaning on the table over her. 

“F-Father?”

“What have I told you of this, child?” he shifted his weight, the palm of his hand slipping from his table to pick the corner of her book as if it disgusted him. It lifted slightly, revealing another open book under it.

Ellere flinched. She had thought she was clever, after all. She had tucked away the fantasy novel in between the pages of her studies, a tome on practical applications of alchemy if she remembered correctly. From a distance, she thought, it would look like she had been studying as she should have been. But her father was far more clever than her, she realized.

“…But I have already finished–”

“You are never finished, dear girl, have I taught you nothing?” Her father circled around the back of her chair, gesturing with a hand to the books upon books in their private library. “Have you finished all of these?”

“No, father,” Ellere gave a sigh, head bowing as her short curls spilled out from behind her ears. She tucked a few of them back behind, sitting a little straighter after. It would do no good to get a lecture on posture as well.

Looking down at her, he stopped, hands curled at his back as if he was thinking. Finally, he released a breath, and shook his head. Another hand, far too quick for Ellere, reached out and grabbed her book from its hidden place.

“F-Father wait!”

“I will have the staff remove all of these, if you cannot control yourself, child,” his voice was stern and he held the book out of her reach as she made to grab at it. “You are a Cadalelle, Ellere, begin to act as one. Too much is expected of you for you to lose your way in these… dalliances.”

Ellere watched hopelessly as her father closed the novel, tucking it under his arm. “Please, father, I just… it is my favorite.”

Her plea was unanswered. He strode out of the study saying nothing else, the clicking of his heels against the wooden floor far louder, to her, than had been on his arrival.

Much later into the evening, after a quiet supper and as Ellere lay in bed, her mother knocked lightly on the slightly open door before tucking herself inside the room completely. Ellere immediately sat up with a flurry of sheets, bouncing curls and a grand smile.

“Hello, my little Ellie. Still awake, I see. Twice caught being naughty, hm?”

Ellere pushed out her lip in a pout, then looked down. Her mother only laughed, sitting beside her on the bed then pulling her into her arms. “M-Mom!”

Ellere felt a weight in her lap, and managed to pry her face away from her mother’s tight embrace long enough to look down. There was her book. The tale of the knight and the princess. She sucked in an audible breath, looking up at her mother with a question half-formed around a smile.

She was smiling gently, in return. “Ah, ah, I have my ways. I cannot tell you them.” Her mother leaned down, giving a peck on the tip of Ellere’s nose. “Your father is a silly man that wishes the best for you. But you know what I think?” Ellere shook her head quietly, and her mother continued, “Gardens do not blossom because you tell them to. Flowers bloom when they want to, how they want to. All you can do is encourage them to grow.”

Ellere pinched her brow shut, not understanding. Her mother merely laughed it off again, kissing the top of her hair and rocking her a bit. Opening the book to where she had left it in the study, Ellere looked up and asked, “Want me to read to you? It’s the best part!”

“Of course I do, my little starshine, of course I do.”