MoboReader> Fantasy > The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire

   Chapter 188 No.188

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5741

Updated: 2018-07-11 19:03

White Feather fell to his knees, arms hanging limply at his sides and head hung.

'My feet are agony…' he cried. 'Oh…I'm not used to so much walking.'

'Perhaps we should rest' Amaia suggested again, this time more urgently. 'Please. It pains me to see you like this.'

'Alright' White Feather gasped, 'maybe we can rest, just for a little while.'

'Why don't you fly alongside me?' Amaia asked him.

'No' White Feather shook his head stubbornly. 'I must share your burden, if you are to walk this distance, then so will I.'

'Can I' Amaia asked tentatively, 'see your wings? Please?'

White Feather's expression lit up at that.

'Of course' he gleamed. 'I'll show you mine, if you show me yours.'

'Mine?' Amaia asked uncertainly.

'Your powers' White Feather prompted.

'Let me see your wings first.'

'Alright' White Feather smirked, obeying her wish.

Amaia gasped slightly at the sight as he revealed his wings. She lifted a hand towards them, running her fingers along one of White Feather's four glass-like wings.

'They are beautiful' Amaia breathed. 'They are like dragonfly wings.'

She leant back, sitting upon the trunk of a fallen tree. Above her the canopy of leaves was thick, and nearby through the trees could be seen the orange sky, growing redder.

'Could you tell me more' she asked White Feather, 'about my death. You said I fell. Why did I wake here in these woods?'

'Weather Makers have a certain number of lives' White Feather explained. 'It varies from one individual to the next, often just a random number. The last Weather Maker I served had four lives.'

'How many do I have?' Amaia asked him.

White Feather shrugged. 'Only you know that.'

Amaia lowered her eyes. 'Can you tell me about my parents?' she asked. 'The ones I grew up with?'

White Feather smiled kindly at her, and began to recite the story she herself had told to him, only a few days ago, but what felt now like a lifetime. To both of them.

'Your mother was a happy soul. She took pleasure in the simplest things in life, the early morning birds which would sit on their high perches singing to one another like a chorus, the way the leaves would rustle and dance in the winds. The way the sun would shine off the surface of the ponds in the forest she used to walk in, the forest she met your uncle, Arlen. Shortly after which, she married your father Farrell. Then you came along.'

White Feather spoke for hours about Amaia's early life, telling her of everything that had happened to her before that terrible day when her life changed forever. The day that her mother was killed, and the prince Tristan had taken her into isolation until she matured.

'How come I don't remember any of this?' Amaia asked him after a time. 'How come I've forgotten my entire life before I woke up in these woods? It feels like the first

time I've ever seen the light of day. And remind me again why my hair turned green.'

'When a Weather Maker dies' White Feather explained, 'it's as if they are born again. Their spirit rises and goes away from the place where they died, and to another place, somewhere quiet and isolated, ready to rise again. When they wake, they remember nothing of their past, and that is what we fairies are for. To help the Weather Makers remember.'

'And my hair?'

'The spirit of the Weather Maker that dies, before it rises again, sometimes takes a little piece of the environment with it. You fell into an ivy bush, and became tangled in the thorns. When you woke in your new body, your hair was green, like the leaves of the bush that caught you.'


'So' White Feather said clapping his hands upon his knees, 'yesterday I told you everything about the prince Tristan and his ghastly wife, and today I've told you everything I know about your past with your parents, Ramana and Farrell. I have told you everything I can think of now.'

'There is something I don't understand though' Amaia said. 'Why do Weather Makers exist? And why do they hold such powers?'

'They were originally created to protect the realm.'

'From what?'

'It's been forgotten.'

'Then who created them?'

'It was so long ago, even my kind cannot remember.'

Amaia frowned at him unconvinced.

'Weather Makers have many different powers' White Feather went on. 'Some are stronger than others. Each Weather Maker has an affinity for a particular element, one they feel most comfortable with.' He shot her a sideways glance, smirking at her. 'Yours is frost' he said.

'And you think I'm supposed to protect the realm?' Amaia asked sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

'Well' White Feather shrugged nonchalantly. 'Not so much anymore. Those days have past.'

'You're making that up.'

'Here' White Feather offered, leaning towards her. 'I will show you.'

He touched her temple, and Amaia closed her eyes, seeing a vision in her head of a great battle.

Thousands of women marching in formation across a large expanse of land, where the grass had been blackened to a dust by great heat. Using their collective force they raised the worst kind of storm that was imaginable. A great monsoon, where huge waves drawn up from rivers and seas lashed around them, protecting them from outside forces. Snow swirled above their heads in a howling gale. Thunder and lightning raged, lighting up the sky in flashes above the great arches of pure fire that swirled and roared above heads of the marching army. Wearing no armour, the elements were all they needed for protection. And together, they faced their foe before them. A great shadow which shrouded the land. Together, they could wreak havoc upon the earth, with their powers collected in mass, they were formidable.

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