That was when she knew that there were some things worse than death. Even as a child, she was very secretive - finding little pieces of metal, dead leaves, small sticks, and hiding them about her bedroom. An only child to her single human mother, she often had to go out for chores and work, despite her young age. Keeping her strange ears hidden beneath big hats or long hair, she was taught to never talk to others - her father, it had seemed, was not somebody her mother wished to talk about, and the questions brought on by a half-elf would be even more intense than the already curious village (there not being much gossip to have around the village). This suited Hlynn - both of them liked their privacy.
Her mother, Miranda, was kind. They lived in a small village in Abbhen, distrustful of magic as many are. Neither of them liked the place’s phobias to much, but with little money and a young child, Miranda couldn’t exit the community - so she tried to keep as low a profile as possible. In their isolation, she always had enough to eat, they played games of chance and had long, drawn-out discussions into the night. As they grew older, however, Hlynn noticed her mother becoming more distant and cold. Though she still pushed for the talks and games, they became more forced every day, coming home from her job as a seamstress and immediately going to sleep, without so much as a “hello”. When confronted about this coldness, Miranda didn’t answer, just gave a sad smile and replied, “it’s not your fault”. Hlynn was 12.
Hlynn began to pursue other relationships, but it was difficult - she could relate to few people in her village, having finally revealed her elven heritage and having the village entirely inhabited by humans with small minds did not make it any easier. However, there was one girl, who seemed to see something in the young half-elf. “I’m Kethel,” she introduced herself. It was late, just after school as Hlynn began to do her chores. They talked for hours, late into the night, both wrapped in the same blanket to keep warm. They promised to talk again, and Hlynn was happy, for a while. Hlynn was 13.
They began to spend the days and nights together, going to school, doing village work together, tending to sheep, and more, and the years that they spent together were the happiest Hlynn had ever been. When she was with Kethel, she felt like nothing could hurt her. At nights, they would run away from the town meetings at night to build their own snow tunnels out in the woods, talk and think about the future, and that’s when Kethel revealed her abilities to Hlynn. They were amazing, sending beautiful sparks of electricity through the air current and carving out small burns in the walls that they touched. When Hlynn touched, Kethel, she could feel her hairs standing up on end, tingling and exciting to the touch. Hlynn was 17.
But it was Kethel’s bravery that made Hlynn fall for her. She would skip school, climb the mountains late at night, tempt wild animals with food just to get a closer look, and swim underneath the frozen lake alone. Whereas Hlynn had spent her years trying to stay under the radar and do what she was told, Kethel always wanted to try new things, do new things. “I’ve got to live every day like it’s my last! And I don’t want to miss a thing.” For the first time since she was a child, Hlynn felt truly happy. They shared their first kiss beneath the single, dead tree next to the frozen lake, and Hlynn could feel static running through her body. Hlynn was 18.
It was when the magick tests started that she saw the dark side to their safe, idyllic lifestyle. Year after year, people were poked, prodded, and burned, made to drawn out whatever magicks that they possessed within themselves. Very few were found, but there was almost always a struggle. Some were children, grabbed from the hands of their mothers. Others were young adults, following the guards with an expression of grim determination. Some went willingly, believing that whoever they were going with could cure them. Hlynn didn’t like to watch, and she wouldn’t be tested for a while after the first one resulted in nothing but a few wounds and a rough burn. But then there was Kethel. Kethel cried out as the pain reached her, involuntarily sending sparks up the small shortsword and severely burning the hand of the man that did it. She was immediately grabbed, and began to kick and scream, trying to get away. Hlynn would never forget her grim face, as she stole a knife from one of the guards, stabbed him in the jugular. When the others surrounded her, swords out and slowly inching towards her, Hlynn could see that Kethel knew that she couldn’t escape - with only enough time to flash Hlynn a sad, tragic smile, and say her final words, she drove the knife into her own throat. Hlynn was 19.
After that Hlynn fell into a state of depression. She didn’t want to go anywhere, to do anything. Her mother, still withdrawn from her daughter, attempted to comfort her in her limited time at home, but nothing would draw her out of this depression. She barely ate and barely slept. Slowly, but surely, she began to come out of it. It started with going to work, the manual labor letting her work thoughtlessly, and then she began to go back to school. Not that it had anything to teach her, anyway, she thought. But maybe she could do it again. Nobody could replace Kethel, but maybe she could make a connection again. She was wrong.
That look on Kethel’s face. Those words. Even as she tried to be more outgoing in town, they haunted Hlynn’s dreams, and were the first things she thought of on that warm summer day when her powers first manifested. It was an unnaturally warm summer when the children began aggressively bullying her. The hats and hair and scarves, as well as her naturally young appearance caused some to be suspicious of her, but when she had to put them in a proud display for fear of dying from heatstroke, this lead to bullying and ire from some of her more vicious peers. With Kethel gone, she was no longer willing or brave enough to defend herself from these antagonists. They ripped at her hair and knocked her to the brink of consciousness, before taking her deep into the mountains to that frozen lake (now thawed for the summer), and tried to drown her. It didn’t end well for them. Under duress, the lake froze beneath her feet and shattered, sending flying spears of ice out faster than she could blink. Two of the boys were impaled, and died nearly instantly. The last one was merely wounded, bleeding badly, laying on the ground sobbing and asking for forgiveness as he slowly bled out. Hlynn was 20.
She knew that day that she might never be safe. Never be free from this kingdom, who would steal or destroy whatever magick allowed her to do these destructive things. Like Kethel, she would be sentenced to a fate worse than death, and Hlynn would sooner join her dead paramour than become a prisoner of this society. A slave to their whims, and she finally understood. She would never let the kingdom control her, or her abilities, and she would never let them determine the way she would live and die. She shoveled the bodies deep into the mountain, vowing that no one would ever find out, never discover what she was. And so, this secret, like so many others, began to gnaw at her heart. She left school and her mother often, venturing into the frozen mountains, climbing, communing with the cold and the snow, retreading old ground. She dreaded every day, as it grew closer and closer to the day the recruiters would come and find her out. She spent most of her nights in tears, thinking of the dead body covered in scarlet blood, and trained even harder. She would not be a casualty - she would kill anyone that came for her. She would be strong for both of them.
She withdrew once again to her bed - from townsfolk and her mother, the closer the day came to her 22nd birthday. She had a plan - she was going to run. On the day of her birthday, she celebrated as best as she could, with her mother and a small number of expensive confectionaries, and then, that night in the cold and dark, she donned a black cloak, grabbed whatever gear she could, and stole away into the mountains, a mantra beating in her chest. “I’m nobody’s slave.”