Cal C Long || Author

The shush of a soft tread declared Rin’s approach. “Fancy some company?”

I patted the grass. They sat, and, for a little while, we just admired the night.

The moon, the spool the Seamstress continually filled and emptied as She eternally wove, was full; the fruits of Her labour spilling in celestial hues across the inky sky.

“Did you know,” Rin said. “The only reason any of us can see the Seamstress and the Weave is because of the god you humans hate.”

“Oblivion?”

“We know Him by a different name, but yes. His brother, who you call the Shaper of Light, made the day so the Seamstress could look down upon Their creations and marvel with pride.” Their countenance was vivid with passion, eyes brilliant auroras. “But Oblivion, obsessed with His brother’s bride, made the night, so all who looked upon the heavens would see only Her, in all Her glorious beauty, and worship and adore Her as He did.”

The fervent waltz of their words had put my attention in lockstep. In its lull, I remembered I was supposed to be keeping watch.

“Of course Oblivion’s favourite children would romanticise Him. Are you forgetting the part where He starts a war that nearly plummets the realm into eternal darkness?”

“No. All I’m saying is, that which condemned Him also made Him capable of greatness.”

“Violence?”

“Love.”

“So if what He did was in the name of love, it is forgivable?”

“That is for you to decide.”

The gods were all the same to me, apathetic to the suffering of their so-called children and undeserving of our dedication. How vile to demand of us our love and fear when the former was scarce amongst mortals and the latter too abundant.

Wrapped in the dark fabric of Oblivion’s love-letter to a goddess, I pondered the Veilkin beside me. 

“Why?” I needed to know.

“Why what?”

“Why did you agree to tutor me? To stay at the outpost. To stay with me.”

My attention remained on the surrounding forest, but in my periphery Rin relaxed back, propping themself on their elbow, their body angled towards mine. 

“Honestly? At first it was simply out of a morbid curiosity to know the man who killed my tormentor. Then the more I got to know you, the more I saw how lost you are within the who everyone demands you to be. Who society demands you to be. A part of you wishes to fulfil it…yet another…” A shrug. “It can be an isolating struggle.” They twirled a blade of grass between their fingers. “One that you could say resonates with me. The day I showed everyone who I truly was, was a fierce liberation.”

Creatures chirruped in the brief silence. 

“I suppose…” they continued. “I want that for you. Liberation. Exploring your power is one way to get it.”

I looked at the person who, for some inexplicable reason, had the ability to lay me utterly bare. It wasn’t a vulnerability I enjoyed, but I couldn’t deny it thrilled me. 

“Careful,” they purred. “You keep looking at me like that and I might think you want to kiss me.”

The heady rush of their want for me heated my gaze and it pleased me to see their lips flush. 

If I wanted to, I could.

“Sometimes.” My voice came out a low rumble. “Being with you feels like I’m dancing along the edge of a precipice.”

They leant in ever so slightly, long lashes veiling eyes that had dipped to my lips. 

“Sounds…exciting.”

“Sounds dangerous,” I denied.

They pushed to their feet, brushing dirt from their clothes. 

“That’s a bad habit of yours.”

My brows knit in confusion. “What is?”

“Holding yourself back,” they said, walking away. 

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