Heretic

Caylayla has broken all the rules of her society. Now she must face the consequences.

“She is a heretic. She must be cast out!”

“But she’s only a girl! She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

Calayla sat in the hard chair at the back of the room, holding her hands gingerly in her lap. They were slender, with long fingers, and might have been beautiful if they were not so badly scarred. The fire had left horrible reddish scars all over her delicate hands; they looked odd and violent against the soft pink fabric of her skirt. They trembled, though she tried to sit as still as possible.

She sat, ignored, as the elders - including her own mother - discussed her fate.

The punishment for heresy - which had many definitions, the most common being interference with mortal lives - was banishment. Calayla had broken every rule in the book. She’d not only left Hevathia without permission, but she’d interfered in the life of a mortal girl. The scars on her hands were the reminders of her first punishment: Burning, because she left.

The worst thing, in the eyes of the elders, was that she was unrepentant. Calyla refused to denounce her actions, and her punishment must be worse accordingly. To the citizens of Hevathia, there was no worse punishment than banishment; they loved their home, perhaps a bit too much. Calayla was a bit different in that respect. Oh, she liked Hevathia, of course, but she was fascinated with the mortal world, a wonderment that had caused her to learn everything she could about it. It was this, and her compassion for the mortals, that had prompted her to leave Hevathia.

Footsteps approached Calayla, and she looked up to see the Head of the elders standing before her. “Rise,” he intoned deeply, and Calayla stood. Her trembling intensified.

“Calyala Elayo’s daughter, you are hereby banished from the realm of Hevathia to live in the mortal world for the rest of your life.” He glanced behind him, to where Calayla’s mother stood, tears in her eyes. “You may have a moment to say farewell.” With that, the Head and all the other elders left the room.

Elayo waited until the heavy silver doors had closed behind the last of the elders before she rushed to her daughter. “Oh, Calayla,” she said, “I’m so sorry, I tried to stop them!” She wrapped Calayla in a bone-crushing hug.

“Mother,” Calayla said softly. She gently pressed away from her mother’s body, wincing slightly as she put pressure on her hands. Elayo released Calayla, tears budding in her dark blue eyes.

“I’ll be fine, mother,” Calayla smiled sadly. “I can look after myself.”

Elayo’s lips turned up slightly, and she grabbed Calyla’s wrists, being very careful with them. “Goodbye, my Calayla.” She kissed Calayla on the forehead and slowly pulled away. She wiped the stray tears with the back of her hand - perfect, unblemished - and moved to the door.

Calayla waited, trembling ever the more, as Elayo opened the door and spoke with someone outside. After a moment, Elayo disappeared and a pleasant-looking blonde woman stepped in. “Hello Calayla.” Her voice was like the runners of a sleigh slipping over snow; soft and smooth and comforting. “My name is Ellian.”

She looked Calayla up and down for a moment before stepping closer. “I’m going to take you to the mortals.” she said, “are you ready?”

Calayla nodded quickly, flexing her hands. “Will they-” she cleared her throat- “will they be able to see me?”

“No.” Ellian said shortly. She gripped Calayla’s upper arms. “Close your eyes,” she said quietly, closing her own gray ones as she did. Calayla obeyed, shutting her eyes tightly. Ellian started muttering under her breath, strange words Calayla had never heard before. As she went on, she spoke faster and faster until her words all blurred into one.

Then, suddenly, her voice stopped altogether. Calayla opened her eyes to see that she wasn’t in the same place anymore.

She stood on a dirty street, with people passing all around her. They didn’t turn to look at her, didn’t seem to notice her presence at all. Tall buildings made of glass rose up around her. The ground beneath her feet was hard, neither dirt nor the marble of the elder’s meeting room. Loud, long honking noises echoed from all around, and odd metal carts whizzed by in the street.

Calayla stumbled back, her burned hands clenching and unclenching by her sides. Staring around her, she took a deep breath, then turned and ran down the street, trying to get away from it all.

She ran until the noise faded and the streets cleared of people. She stopped on a cobblestone street, the walls of which closed in tight. She caught her breath, pressing one hand to her side. The light was fading, the shadows lengthening, and Calayla saw and empty doorway, the room beyond darker than night.

Straightening up, Calayla moved to this door, which was hanging half of its hinges. She stepped inside the door, running her hands over the walls covered with peeling wallpaper. She knew enough about humans to know that they used electrical lights to brighten their homes. Calayla’s fingers stumbled over a switch protruding from the wall, and she flipped it the other way. Sickly yellow light filled the room.

The walls were a faded yellow where old flowered wallpaper did not cover them. There was one window on the far wall; in front of it sat a small wooden desk with a low stool in place of a chair. The bed was low as well, covered with moth-eaten blankets and pillows.

Slowly, Calayla smiled. Perfect.

Author's Note

This took me two weeks to finish. Please be nice.

Reviews

[Mysana]

I like it. It gently gives a sense of place, and the effect of this is that I feel like I'm slipping into the world. I thought it was interesting, and if you made it into a books, I would read it.

[EmaleighLynn]

Thank you! Unfortunately, I have no further plans for this story. The muse fled when the last word of this was written. I am very glad you enjoyed, though.

[Mysana]

That's just how it is sometimes, I understand. I think I shall read more of your stories in the future.

[EmaleighLynn]

Thank you, I'd appreciate it!