The Edge

Tola: Prologue

There were strangers in their midst.

It wasn't often that new people came to Tola's home. Everyone said they would bring sink and darkness, as all outsiders did, but all she felt from them was love—love and sweetness and light. It was clear they cared for each other as family; even the tallest of the children, whose soul burned like an open wound, had some of that affection growing in him. It was small and new, like the plants of spring.

She wanted to talk to and learn more about them, especially since several of them were close to her age. She didn't get the chance to speak to other children. But Tola was kept as far away from them as possible, to avoid their darkness. Tola watched them, though, as best she could from her window.

One night, she couldn't sleep. Tola went to her window to watch the stars. When she did, she happened to see the tall, quiet boy standing outside their ship. It looked like he was hurt. She could feel frustration radiating from him, even from far away. Why was no one helping him? Maybe he was hiding his injuries. Tola had known people to do that if they didn't want the elders to know they were hurt.

Tola's window wasn't locked. They trusted her to stay where she was, because she was good, and good people didn't disobey their elders. Even the Lord's Beacon wasn't allowed to disobey her elders.

But good people also didn't let people bleed on their own, and her calling to help felt far more important then.

So, after making sure no one was coming down the hall, Tola carefully opened the window—just wide enough for her to slip out. She approached the boy slowly, ready to run if it turned out he was dangerous. "Hello?" she called once she was close enough.

The boy froze, his eyes fixing on her. Tola felt fear, followed by confusion. "I didn't think they let you out of that building," he said.

"I saw that you're hurt. It's my divine calling to help the injured." The boy's nose wrinkled, the confused feeling growing. That was fine. He'd understand soon. "My name is Tola. What's your name?"

"Gideon." Gideon glanced down at his hand. She could just barely see some blood on the palm. "I'm okay. It's just a cut. I was trying to sharpen my knife, but my hands were shaking..." Anger crept into his voice and soul as he spoke. "It was stupid. Stupid and careless."

He was angry at himself. Tola didn't think she'd ever felt anyone be so angry with themselves. It made her heart ache to hear. She approached, gently rubbing her jaw near her ear as she did. "Is the cut very deep?" she asked.

"No...what are you doing?" Gideon took a small step when he saw her stick her fingers in her mouth. "I've already cleaned it, and spit's not..."

"It's not spit. I can help, I promise." She made sure there was enough of the elixir on her fingertips before holding out her hand. "I know, it seems gross, but this will help."

Gideon's eyes narrowed, but he must have noticed that the substance on her fingers wasn't quite like spit. It shimmered slightly, looking almost like liquid moonlight. His curiosity finally overwhelmed his distrust, and he held out his hand. He hadn't lied about the wound: it wasn't very deep at all, but it certainly looked painful.

"Here." Tola gently wiped the elixir across the wound. Gideon winced slightly as it began to affect the wound. Tola wasn't surprised; it could tickle or itch sometimes. By the time it had all been absorbed into the wound, though, it looked much better. Most of the bleeding had stopped, and it looked more pink than red. "It should heal a lot faster now," Tola said.

Gideon looked at his hand, then at her. "Are you...magic?" he asked.

Tola beamed. "No, silly. I'm a servant of the Lord."