r/shortstories • u/FyeNite • Nov 09 '25

[Serial Sunday] Yield Fool, For I Have Won! No Wait, Don't Press That Big Red But-

Welcome to Serial Sunday!

To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I post a theme to inspire you, along with a related image and song. You have 500 - 1000 words to write your installment. You can jump in at any time; writing for previous weeks’ is not necessary in order to join. After you’ve posted, come back and provide feedback for at least 1 other writer on the thread. Please be sure to read the entire post for a full list of rules.

This Week’s Theme is Yield! This is a REQUIREMENT for participation. See rules about missing this requirement.**

Image

Bonus Word List (each included word is worth 5 pts) - You must list which words you included at the end of your story (or write ‘none’).
- Yellow
- Young
- Yarrow

  • A full moon is present in your story and is almost personified as mocking the characters below. - (Worth 15 points)

Sometimes it’s best to just give way, to live to fight another day,
Surrendering to greater force, can sometimes be the only course,
A prize relinquished to a foe, or treasured secret none should know,
Or simple courtesy instead, to let another go ahead.

A long-laid plan may bear its fruit, alliances may follow suit,
A germinating train of thought may change the world, or come to naught,
A stubborn heart of pride and fear, may find true love or shed a tear,
A gracious way to end a fight, admitting someone else is right.

An army brought down to its knees, a cliff worn down by rolling seas,
An ancient facing their last breath may sadly, calmly wait for death,
The best laid plans of mice and men, may bloom in glory by your pen,
With words you plant this fertile field, and hope anew for bounteous yield.

By u/Divayth--Fyr

Good luck and Good Words!

These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. For the bonus words (not required), you may change the tense, but the base word should remain the same. Please remember that STORIES MUST FOLLOW ALL SUBREDDIT CONTENT RULES. Interested in writing the theme blurb for the coming week? DM me on Reddit or Discord!

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Theme Schedule:

This is the theme schedule for the next month! These are provided so that you can plan ahead, but you may not begin writing for a given theme until that week’s post goes live.

 

Rankings

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And a huge welcome to our new SerSunners, u/smollestduck and u/mysteryrouge!

Rules & How to Participate

Please read and follow all the rules listed below. This feature has requirements for amparticipation!

  • Submit a story inspired by the weekly theme, written by you and set in your self-established universe that is 500 - 1000 words. No fanfics and no content created or altered by AI. (Use wordcounter.net to check your wordcount.) Stories should be posted as a top-level comment below. Please include a link to your chapter index or your last chapter at the end.

  • Your chapter must be submitted by Saturday at 2:00pm GMT. Late entries will be disqualified. All submissions should be given (at least) a basic editing pass before being posted!

  • Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). When our bot is back up and running, this will allow it to recognize your pmserial and add each chapter to the SerSun catalog. Do not include anything in the brackets you don’t want in your title. (Please note: You must use this same title every week.)

  • Do not pre-write your serial. You’re welcome to do outlining and planning for your serial, but chapters should not be pre-written. All submissions should be written for this post, specifically.

  • Only one active serial per author at a time. This does not apply to serials written outside of Serial Sunday.

  • All Serial Sunday authors must leave feedback on at least one story on the thread each week. The feedback should be actionable and also include something the author has done well. When you include something the author should improve on, provide an example! You have until Saturday at 04:59am GMT to post your feedback. (Submitting late is not an exception to this rule.)

  • Missing your feedback requirement two or more consecutive weeks will disqualify you from rankings and Campfire readings the following week. If it becomes a habit, you may be asked to move your serial to the sub instead.

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  • On Saturdays at 5pm GMT, I host a Serial Sunday Campfire in our Discord’s Voice Lounge (every other week is now hosted by u/FyeNite). Join us to read your story aloud, hear others, and exchange feedback. We have a great time! You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Grab the “Serial Sunday” role on the Discord to get notified before it starts. After you’ve submitted your chapter, you can sign up here - this guarantees your reading slot! You can still join if you haven’t signed up, but your reading slot isn’t guaranteed.

  • Nominations for your favorite stories can be submitted with this form. The form is open on Saturdays from 5:30pm to 04:59am GMT. You do not have to participate to make nominations!

  • Authors who complete their Serial Sunday serials with at least 12 installments, can host a SerialWorm in our Discord’s Voice Lounge, where you read aloud your finished and edited serials. Celebrate your accomplishment! Authors are eligible for this only if they have followed the weekly feedback requirement (and all other post rules). Visit us on the Discord for more information.  

Ranking System

Rankings are determined by the following point structure.

TASK POINTS ADDITIONAL NOTES
Use of weekly theme 75 pts Theme should be present, but the interpretation is up to you!
Including the bonus words 5 pts each (15 pts total) This is a bonus challenge, and not required!
Including the bonus constraint 15 (15 pts total) This is a bonus challenge, and not required!
Actionable Feedback 5 - 15 pts each (60 pt. max)* This includes thread and campfire critiques. (15 pt crits are those that go above & beyond.)
Nominations your story receives 10 - 60 pts 1st place - 60, 2nd place - 50, 3rd place - 40, 4th place - 30, 5th place - 20 / Regular Nominations - 10
Voting for others 15 pts You can now vote for up to 10 stories each week!

You are still required to leave at least 1 actionable feedback comment on the thread every week that you submit. This should include at least one specific thing the author has done well and one that could be improved. *Please remember that interacting with a story is not the same as providing feedback.** Low-effort crits will not receive credit.

 

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1

u/FyeNite Nov 09 '25

Welcome to Serial Sunday!

  • All top-level comments must be serials.

  • Reply here to discuss the theme, suggest future themes, or talk about serial writing.

  • Please read the post rules carefully and follow the subreddit rules in any feedback.

Having trouble posting or editing your chapter? Try old reddit! Change the 'www' to 'old' in the url!

3

u/ZLErikson Nov 09 '25 edited Nov 10 '25

<Casting Shadows>

Chapter 100

Maar was enjoying her all-expense-paid shopping trip in the market as the early dawn hours encroached. The older, more seasoned merchants were beginning to pack up while the younger, eager up-and-comers continued to hock and hawk their wares in the thinning competition.

With the medicinal needs of her party taken care of, she was able to indulge in a few more personal items. Small snacks and treats in the form of exotic fruits and vegetables, and a couple of pieces of jewelry to add to the adornments on her arms. Though tempted to test the limits of Fariba’s generosity, Maar knew she needed to travel light. There was still two weeks worth of desert to cross before they would finally arrive in Keygroph.

Besides the quantity of merchants, other things grew sparser as the night waned. There were fewer and fewer people as well; particularly the visitors passing through. Another set of Disciples of Flame had supposedly left Nihimlaq to continue south, and no other caravan from the north had arrived.

Maar wondered if there were any more of Helen’s faith to be expected. From Nihimlaq, the only land easily reachable was Chol; an ancient and historied kingdom that was slow to change. Like her own homeland of Shen, Chol did not feel the weight of the Empire as heavily as the relatively younger lands of Harenae and Sammos. Her people did not relinquish their gods so easily and she doubted the Cholish would either.

As for herself, Maar had seen some of the feats the Priestesses of Flame were known for, though not any of the awe-inspiring ones that might have shaken her own faith. She held her true beliefs close to her heart; praising the Flame and wearing the white robes of a Disciple were merely matter of convenience. Her many colorful arm bands and bracelets were enough expression of her people and her style, just as Kher’s brilliantly beaded beard was for him.

As the number of white-adorned Disciples depleted, and the local drab browns and greys took up the majority of worn attire, some of the few colorful options in the market became more visible. A familiar face showed itself; painted eyebrows and a long, beaded, beard braided with gold.

“Brother of Shen!” Maar said enthusiastically, bowing her head and extending her arm.

“Sister of the Western Sand!” The merchant returned her greeting with equal energy. “I trust you are enjoying your stay in this marvelous demonstration of Deshereyan ingenuity?”

“I am content with the hospitality of its people, yes,” Maar said with a nod of her head. “Unfortunately, I cannot fully relax at this time. My party is due to leave northward soon. How soon? That appears to be up for debate. It could be as soon as sunset today or tomorrow.”

“Alas for short stays and indecisive schedules.” The Shen merchant gestured toward some small boxes he had on a stand, containing dried, fragrant leaves. “Could I interest you in some tea? It can assist you in getting a good day’s rest and may help with your harm.”

An older woman wearing a headdress woven of yellow, white, and pink yarrow approached. Her back was bent with the weight years and there were deep frown lines etched into her wizened face.

“Excuse me, might I interrupt for some chamomile?” she asked. Maar nodded graciously to her elder and took a step aside.

As her merchant friend busied himself with the other woman’s tea-based needs, Maar looked around the market some more. A large and ornate woven tapestry of a moonrise over the desert caught her attention. It was not of high quality nor of a style she liked, but it was expensive and would be a curse to transport across the sands.

She imagined presenting the tapestry as a gift of gratitude to Fariba, just before departing north. The oversized moon would mock the scheming Captain of Trades for the rest of their own journey across the desert.

But Maar could not bring herself to make such a disingenuous gesture. With a wistful sigh, she made her way back toward the tavern so she could get some food and rest.

----------
WC: 696/1000
All crit/feedback welcome!
r/ZLErikson
[Chapter Index]

Notes:

  • Theme: Maar yielded her place to an older woman.

  • Bonus words: Young(er), yellow, yarrow

  • Bonus constraint: A mocking moon is on a tapestry Maar considers getting

  • Recommend any new readers use the linked chapter index above; those chapters receive more edits than the ones in past sersun posts

  • It has been 10 in-universe days since Chapter 1

  • Maar’s previous night of shopping was in Chapter 67

  • Helen is the High Priestess of the Disciples of Flame, as revealed initially in Chapter 3

3

u/MaxStickies Nov 10 '25

Hi Zach, really like the chapter! Little moments like this are great, and I like how you show the recent changes in the market; it gives a sense of movement in your serial and helps the world to continue to feel alive. I like all the individual trade goods mentioned too, and the variety, from rugs to tea to little snacks, it gives a sense of variety you want from a market scene.

I also really like the further details about Maar's relationship with the White Flame. The fact that she believes more in her own culture's gods and that's part of why she wears her own clothes beneath the robe, that feels very true to history and life in general, and I find it fascinating. It shows the complexity of belief and culture really well.

On a more specific note, there's some very enjoyable alliteration throughout this, particularly "brilliantly beaded beard".

As for crit, I have two line edit suggestions:

The quantity of merchants was not all that grew sparser as the night waned.

I think this sentence could be reworked a little, it reads a tad awkwardly as-is. Maybe something like, "Besides the quantity of merchants, other things grew sparser as the night waned."

I am content with the hospitality of its people, yes,” Maar said with a nod of her head. “I am not able to fully relax, of course. I am due to leave northward soon.

There's quite a few "I am" sentences close together here. Perhaps for the speech after the tag, you could have, "Though I'm unable to relax fully; I am due to leave northward soon."

That's all the crit I can find. Great chapter, Zach! And congrats on chapter 100!

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2

u/Nate-Clone Nov 10 '25

This is it! The big one-oh-oh! Let's see what we've got in store!

she was able to indulge in a few more personal items.

Why only "a few" items when it's "all-expense-paid"?

local drab

Extra space.

She held her true beliefs close to her heart, but praised the Flame and wore the white robes of a Disciple as a matter of convenience.

This line confuses me. You imply that Maar is only a disciple out of convenience and believes in some other higher power, but she also worships the Flame? Do two separate faiths call the sun "The Flame"? Perhaps I'm just missing something.

A familiar face showed itself; painted eyebrows and a long, beaded, beard braided with gold.

Could it be?! After all these MONTHS, It's CIT-oh it's just a merchant friend. Ah, well. There's always next week.

My party is due to leave northward soon. How soon? That appears to be up for debate.

Why does she ask a question and then answer her own question? Maybe this is something she regularly does and I just forgot about it, but if not, perhaps give the question to the merchant would work?

Speaking of, I'm obviously not done critiquing yet, but does he not have a name? If not particularly important to the story, or it's a Scooby-Doo type situation where it's someone we know but revealing it now spoils some kind of surprise, then that's fine, but if not, why not name them?

Oh, same with this old lady.

Her back was bent with years

With years of...what?

Captain of Trades is a great name for Fariba. Glad to see at least a few members of our squad seeming to at least tolerate her.

Oh, we're done already! Interesting chapter. Feels like it's a bit of an excuse to do a character study on Maar without devoting the entire chapter to narration, but that's fine. I learned a lot more about her and her connections and feelings of others.

Good words.

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2

u/tiredraccoon11 Nov 15 '25

Hey Zach! I don't have much feedback (other than awesome chapter of course); I just wanted to say congratulations on the big 100! That's a colossal amount of hand-crafted words, way to go man!

3

u/Divayth--Fyr Nov 09 '25 edited Nov 10 '25

<The Broken God>

Chapter 36: Quite Some Time

.

Sancaurion awoke in nameless, reeling fear. Restoring his vision, he sat up in the dim room; he was home, in his tower ... but something was different. My head wants to fall off, for one. There was a strange presence. Singing?

It came from below, with a clattering of metal. Some mad warrior-bard in clanking armor has breached the door.

The room was dark but for a glowing path of light from bed to door. He turned, and there in the tall window was the fat face of Great Unser, hovering with insolent smugness among the stars. You will lead her right to me, you bastard, he thought, grasping his fragile skull. Thank you so much. The moon serenely ignored this. She can cut me down if she likes, then. I surrender. Vorion’s maw, I am unwell.

He tried to recall the previous night. Vague, disjointed impressions came: jugs of wine, a bumpy cart ride. My legs are sticky. Finally, the smell of cooking made one thought connect to another. Uldarquin! Pans. Cooking. She had stayed, yes.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed by the postponement of his violent demise. I am required to live another day, it seems. He reached for his assortment of bedside medicaments, and made a valiant start.

Potions and powders, tinctures and salves. He wanted a fang of the viper, but found no spirits among the clutter. Slowly, he began to feel as if his eyes belonged in his head.

Tea! The very notion drove him to stand upright. She will have made tea. The room spun and wavered, and he sat right back down. Gingerly, he managed to stand again, and ventured onto the stairs, descending to the kitchen with great care for his fragility.

The singing ceased. He couldn’t place the song. Lovely, though.

“Greetings,” Uldarquin said quietly. In that moment he felt a profound affection. Bright and chipper would have been intolerable.

“Greetings,” he replied, maneuvering himself onto a bench. “You have been busy.”

“I have stowed most of the supplies, hopefully in the right places.” She placed before him a large mug of the unspeakable glory that was bog-yarrow tea. He leaned in, taking up residence in the steam and fragrance.

“I hope you rested well,” he said, eyes closed in grateful relief.

“Quite. You insisted on bringing me every coverlet and fur on the continent.”

“Did I? I do not recall. I hope I was not too obnoxious in my stupor.”

“Not at all.” Uldarquin laid a plate of salt pork and toasted bread before him. “You did promote me to head of the Mage’s Council, and then swore to find them and tell them about it.”

“Oh ... oh dear.”

“But nothing obnoxious, no. You were very kind.”

Cautiously, Sancaurion sampled the bread. The pork seemed a bit too ambitious, but before he knew it he had consumed the lot, and another mug of tea. He began to feel vaguely akin to a living being. Uldarquin had joined him across the table, and he considered her now.

“You may not quite be ready to head the Mage’s Council, if it exists, but I do have a more serious notion in mind—now that said mind is somewhat in order. Have you been apprenticed?”

She stopped with a chunk of pork halfway to her mouth. “Apprenticed? Oh. No. I mean, I never thought about it. I learned a spell or two from my grandmother, that’s all.”

“Would you consider such a path? It is a large commitment, but I am sure you would do well.”

“Me? I don’t … I mean, I’m just a merchant. Apprentice mage? To Sancaurion himself? I don’t know what to think.”

“Do consider it. You are fairly young, I believe.”

“Fifty-six.”

“Ah. A goodish age for apprenticing. I do not ask that you agree at once, Uldarquin, but please, do not dismiss your abilities. Will you consider it?”

She nodded, and drank her tea.

“I need to go down to my bath, but first, I should like to show you something. I trust your discretion, yet I must ask you to undertake a solemn vow never to speak of it.”

Uldarquin started to make a quick reply, but paused. “I see. Very well; I do so vow.”

Sancaurion arose, carefully, and led her down the spiral stair. Casting a quick spell of light, he continued along a rough stone passage, and pressed his hand against the wall. Whispering, gesturing, he caused bright yellow runes to glow, marking a hidden door. It moved aside, and they entered a large, richly appointed room.

Opulent tapestries were hung, and thick rugs sprawled everywhere. A semicircle of tables held a collection of cabinets, vaults, and cases of many sizes, topped with curved crystal lids. Each box glowed faintly.

“My infusion chamber,” said the old mage, sitting at a workbench. “I have been working on these enchantments for quite some time.”

Uldarquin stood silent, mouth agape.

“Would you like to sit?” Sancaurion rose to make way.

“Time! Quite some time!” She ignored the offer, staring at him. “I hadn’t thought of that! Of course! I’m no expert in such things, but … I’ve heard of swords or amulets infused for a century, even two or longer, but they were things of legend! Sought after, fought over. Tales told! And you…”

“Indeed.” Sancaurion smiled. “I have endured rather longer. The process can be paused, of course, but only the original enchanter can resume the infusion. That ring, in the dark little case—the silver one, with the emerald? An early piece. I started it not long after I took Heromil, about two centuries after the Great Invasion.”

Uldarquin sat then, heavily. “By Peletrion’s fangs … two thousand six hundred years?”

“Thereabouts. You see now why I swore you to secrecy. If this were known, the armies of the world would storm this tower. The gods would descend upon it like ravenous beasts. Soon I will harvest these things which I have tended for so long.”

Uldarquin could only stare.

999 words. Yarrow, young, yellow used, moon was mocking (or at least rather rude).

Feedback welcome.

Chapter Index

r/DivaythStories

3

u/MaxStickies Nov 10 '25

Hi Div, really like the chapter! Sancaurion and Uldarquin's conversations continue to be very well-written, on par in places where it's more casual but with a sense of his long age and knowledge in other places. I also like the allusions to his age in the descriptions of how he's feeling, such as "akin to a living being"; it shows how he sees life differently, and probably deals with different afflictions to others much younger.

I particularly like the reveal of the infusion chamber, maybe as I always like magical objects, but also it's described really well. It's great that it's so much more opulent than other areas of his tower, showing its significance to him. I also get a sense of why he's been infusing these things, with that last line of his, and I'm looking forward to seeing their abilities in action.

I also like the moments of quite down to earth comedy, like "my legs are sticky", and the other references to the drunken cart ride. Found those very entertaining.

I have some line edit suggestions for crit:

Restoring his vision, he sat up in the dim room. He was home, in his tower, but something was different.

I'd combine these sentences with a semi-colon, and I'd change the second sentence to something like, "home, his tower... but something was different." Would be more chaotic to fit his confusion.

Slowly, he managed to stand again,

As you use "Slowly" a little bit before, I'd suggest "Gingerly" here.

“Oh, dear.”

I think to come across as more of a reaction, something like "Ah... oh dear." could work.

now that my mind is somewhat in order.

Could be more of a me thing, but "said mind" might slow a little better?

I must go down to my bath

Since you use "must" again a bit after, I'd suggest "shall" here.

Very well. I do so vow.

I'd suggest a semi-colon rather than a full stop between these, so it flows a bit better.

And that's all the crit I have. Great chapter, Div!

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1

u/ZLErikson Nov 10 '25

Howdy Div

Back to Sancaurion! Been waiting for this POV shift. I hope our orc crew gets here; would love to see his reaction to them :D And given he's waking up to the sound of someone in his home I'm suspecting they are here; Mrs. Gimple has let herself in before so I see no reason she wouldn't let herself and her guests in again.

Oh nevermind! My assumption was wrong, instead his guest is the kindly elf that gave him a ride to-and-from the hive of scum and villainy.

This is a mood. I feel this every monday morning:

I am required to live another day, it seems.

I love the "fang of the viper" as a subtle stand in for "hair of the dog". His excitement at the prospect of tea is cute and relatable.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

“You did promote me to head of the Mage’s Council, and then swore to find them and tell them about it.”

Ooo, an intriguing twist! I was not at all considering Sancaurion taking on an apprentice in this story. Fascinating direction for things to go. It sparks many ideas though; if she declines or washes out of training, then Durash would make an interesting apprentice for him. Or, if Ulda accepts, she could be a good training rival to Durash (and vice versa). Some competition and jealousy is prime for brewing here as well.

Oh wow, the infusion chamber. Armies of the world and the gods themselves descending on the tower for a mere ring (or I suspect numerous other items in there as well). Now that is a prime setup for a climactic battle in act three.

Good words!

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u/dragontimelord Nov 16 '25

Hey Div This was a fun chapter to read. I liked "fangs of the viper". Really neat set of world building, giving them a version of hair of the dog. 

Some crit, "he made a valient start". I don't know if valient is the right word here.

That's all I've got. Good words

3

u/MaxStickies Nov 09 '25 edited Nov 20 '25

<Thosius>

Chapter 113: Relentless

Berethian wishes Gidrela was still crying, though he hates the thought. He and Lilantia follow the exile as she limps across the moonlit plateau, cradling her injured arm, heading in who-knows-what direction.

“I still think we should have grabbed her,” Lilantia says.

He shakes his head. “If she hasn’t stopped soon, we can. But I’ve a feeling she needs to get this out of her.”

“Hmm. Reminds me of a time when I was young, and nursing a training wound. I refused to see the healer until I’d sat in my favourite meadow.”

Telling me about yourself? That’s new. Guess you really trust me now. “We all need moments to ourselves, when stressed.”

“Right you are.”

A few more steps, and Gidrela stops. She holds her good hand behind her, palm out, signalling them to stop.

“Well,” Berethian says, “looks like we’re getting there.”

The exile falls heavily to her knees. For several minutes, she kneels there in silence, head down. Until she starts to cry.

“Now?” Lilantia asks him.

“Now.”

They each sit an arm’s length behind Gidrela. Besides her muffled sobs, only the sound of the strong mountain wind whistles across the plateau. She eventually lifts her head, to stare at the moon.

“So large and yellow,” the exile says dryly. “Just like the one when I met Sigkalir. When I stumbled into his lands. You know how his people can be, spears and shouting, but he saw how weak I was. Offered me food and water from his own person. Didn’t admonish me when I failed to bow in thanks. That wonderful man ignored all his customs because I needed help.”

“I’m sorry,” Berethian says.

Her head twitches, and she pauses, but then carries on regardless. “Does the night sky wish to mourn with me? Or do the spirits up there scorn my actions? Maybe… is he watching, warning me?”

“Warning?” Lilantia asks. “Of what?”

The exile turns to them, a sad smile on her face. “To not join him so soon.”

“I think that sounds best,” Berethian says.

“If I could go back, I’d have stayed by him longer, prayed at his grave. He believed his soul would return to nature on his death, to become another animal, maybe a person. His religion was never my own, but I fear I’ve ruined that for him.”

The general leans forward, holds Gidrela’s arm. “He seemed strong-willed; I’m sure his soul found its way.”

“Thank you.” Eyes going wide, Gidrela looks down at her hand. “Oh… the pain, it’s back. I think I forgot? How’s that possible?”

“It can happen,” Berethian says.

“Don’t suppose either of you knows the way to a healer?”

Lilantia sighs. “Not from here. There’s one at the last fort we reclaimed, but that’s far to the south. Hmm… if we can find some yarrow and clear water, enough wood for a fire, I reckon I can make a poultice.”

“We’ll have to go into the foothills,” Berethian says. “Away from the forts. What do you think, general?”

“You’re a leader as much as I.”

“I’m giving this one to you.”

“Well, alright. We shall leave the rest here, while the three of us go to search. A larger force might be spotted.”

Berethian nods, and helps Gidrela to her feet.

Having found an old, crumbling hut on the lower slopes, an hour’s walk away, they build a small fire from its splinters. The shadows cast by the flames dance across the fast narrow stream, hissing between the rocks nearby. Lilantia holds a pot over the heat.

Gidrela winces, holding her hand away from her. It breaks Berethian from his thoughts a moment, before he dives back in. Though he sifts through many memories, he returns to that one day again and again: his hand in a trap, and Thosius helping to free him.

He didn’t have to. Doubt he remembered any more of our past than I did, back then. He hated being amongst inquisitors. Don’t blame him either, with how Baltathaius acted… how I did.

Gods, I wish he were here now. I have so many questions. Does he remember me now? Does he miss me?

Does he care?

“What’s on your mind?” the exile asks.

Rubbing his eyes, Berethian turns to her, grinning. “You’re asking me how I am?”

“I said all that was on mine, back there. Somehow, you seem even more troubled.”

“It’s, um… complicated. Messy.”

“Try me.”

Lilantia glances between them momentarily, before returning to the pot.

“Hmm…” He thinks for several moments, planning out his answer. “My memories were locked away in me for a long time, and only recently came back. I recall how brutal my training was, but also that there was someone close to me, who helped me through it. Who loved me.”

“That always helps,” Gidrela says.

“I doubt I’d have survived, if not for him. But from what I saw last time we met—this was much more recent, and when I couldn’t remember—his mind was blocked too. Now, we’re far apart again. I want to ask him so much, so badly, but I can’t until I’m done here.”

“I’m so sorry.” She reaches out, rests her good hand on his. “That must be difficult.”

“It is. But also, I think it drives me on. So I keep him on my mind as much as I can.”

She nods, smiling slightly. “I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“Then he just needs to remember.”

“With a conviction like yours, I believe he will.”

“I appreciate that.” Though still I doubt.

“We all have your back,” Lilantia says. “As long as you have ours. You will return home if I have any say in it.”

“Thank you.”

“But for now, the poultice is ready.” She turns to Gidrela. “I’m afraid this will sting. A lot.”

“Can’t be worse than what caused this,” the exile says.

“That’s the spirit.”

As the general lathers the mix on the damaged hand, Gidrela remains calm and silent.

WC: 1000

Bonus words: yellow, young, yarrow. Bonus constraint: Gidrela stares up at the moon while mourning her late husband, and it reminds her of the one from when she first met him. She wonders if the spirits of the night sky hate her for her actions.

Crit and feedback are welcome.

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