Teren was not Teren. His name was Anatha, and she was crying as her mother beat her.
Mum was crying too. "Why, why, why?" she wailed as she dragged her screaming out of bed by the hair. "He didn't mean it, you stupid girl! He didn't mean it!"
Anatha sobbed uncontrollably. She didn't understand what was going on. "Mum, please! I didn't do it, I didn't do anythi–"
Burin was in the kitchen, motionless on the ground. He was twitching, his mouth open in a silent scream.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she was dragged on by. No, she hadn't done this. She couldn't have! No, no, no!
Mum threw the door open and hurled Anatha outside. She spat at her shivering daughter under the light of the crescent moon. "I defended you. I loved you. When the sun turned dark as I brought you into this world, they all warned it was a sign." The rage on her face was dissolving, replaced by a bitter sadness that somehow scared Anatha much, much more.
"Mum..?"
"But I loved you! You were my daughter, Anatha! My only daughter. My little Annie." She gripped her daughter by the arms. "Saints above, why? Why would you do that to him?"
Anatha sniffles. "I didn't mean to. He, he touched me. I–"
Mum slapped her harder than she had ever been hit. "Lies!" she screamed. "Get out. Get out! You come here again and I'll kill you!"
Anatha ran away from her home, crying as she stumbled barefoot in the dark.
…
She was starving, filthy, and wet. Anatha had followed the River Cerix east in the weeks that had passed since running out of Candlegrove and now found herself in a small village called Southbank. Her clothes were damp and ragged, and she had lost one of her sandals days earlier. Curled up in a foul-smelling alley under an overhang, Anatha did what she could to keep the rain off her back
But the cobblestone beneath Anatha made her legs sore, and as rain soaked her to the bone she could find no comfort. But at least the weather masked her tears.
A hooded figure stood in the street, watching her shiver. Anatha no longer had the strength to care. She simply closed her eyes and waited for him to do whatever.
Eventually he spoke. "There have been rumors. A girl traveling by herself. Families take her in for a night, give her a meal. And then they have nightmares so terrible that they do not vanish even after waking."
"'Cursed," she muttered. "Born under a black sun. Cursed, cursed, cursed." How long had it been since she'd spoken to someone? Her mouth felt stiff saying words.
"Cursed indeed," he mused. "But not because of some silly superstition like that. We're all cursed, as we've all been put on this earth to suffer. But I think you've suffered more than your fair share, for one so young."
Anatha opened her eyes. The man had knelt down on one knee and was smiling at her, with eyes full of compassion. Her lip trembled. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"I believe you." He took off his cloak and placed it over her shoulders. "I give people nightmares too. What is your name, child?"
"A-Anatha."
"I think I can help you, Anatha. And at the very least I know I can get you somewhere warm to sleep. Would you like to come with me?"
She pulled the cloak tight around her and nodded.
…
Anatha hissed in frustration. She had been in the training grounds all day trying to draw in her power. She was exhausted and angry, and yet she refused to give up.
Shadowsurge sat on the ground watching, lazily twirling his commoner's crown around a finger. "Nobody expects you to pick it up this fast, you know."
"If I can do it without trying, I can do it with trying," she growled.
"You do what you do at night. Trying to get a similar result with the sun shining down on you will take time." Her master groaned as he stood up, his knees cracking. "If you're going to be a Moonlight Apostle, you'll be best off training after dusk. I'll start having a servant leave meals out for you."
Anatha smiled. "Thanks." She caught the towel he threw at her. Anatha had been training with him for months now and had grown comfortable around the carefree man.
It was late in Waning Summer, and the fig tree in the training grounds was beginning to produce fruit. Shadowsurge examined it closely. He nodded in approval, picking two off and tossing one over. "It's good that you're taking this seriously though. There's war coming to Istal. And although it makes me sick to tell this to someone as young as you, you're sure to take part in it."
She chewed the fig thoughtfully. "War with Guragull?"
"Nah. Our enemy lies within." He ruffled her hair affectionately. "But she has all the time in the world to make her move, and more patience than I imagined. Just focus on getting stronger for now." They walked into the chapel, an empty room full of prayer rugs arranged in front of the eight idols.
Shadowsurge shut the door behind them. "Hmm. Should be dark enough."
"You want to practice in here?"
"Why not?"
Anatha shrugged. "Well… It's holy ground."
Shadowsurge chuckled. "Saints ain't shit. Trust me on that one." He whipped his hand in the air, cracking his wrist as he did so. The dark parts of the room twisted and bent to cast shadows for things that didn't exist. "I'm going to make something to scare you. In response, I want you to use your own darktwisting to banish the illusion."
"Can I start with a not scary illusion?"
"If you aren't scared of it, your heart won't really be in the dismissal. Trust."
"I don't know about– uh, uh…" There was a spider on her shoulder. "Master, there's a…"
Shadowsurge winked. "You want it gone, then get rid of it."
Anatha slapped the spider hard with her hand. Slowly she removed her hand from– "Gah!" The spider was crawling up her arm now, a large and spindly thing with long legs compared to a small body. "Master!"
"Can't slap off an illusion, Ana…"
The spider was on her shoulder, on her neck, crawling up her face, no, no no! She screamed and the spider crawled right in her mouth.
…
Teren shot up, gasping. He was so disoriented that he actually jumped off the cot and ran out of the room before realizing where he was. He was in the Southrange freezing his socks off, and there was definitely not a spider in his mouth. He spat on the ground to be sure.
His bladder was full and there wasn't a piss pot he could find. Teren tiptoed his way to the main room where the oven's embers burned softly, dwindling with a faint light. He paused at the door. Hokdul had made a point of staying inside after dark. The outhouse was out back though. He didn't think there'd be a problem, but best to play it safe and piss out front.
He stepped out into the moonless night shivering. If it was cold inside then it was freezing out here. He pulled it out and started pissing on the side of the house.
As he shook the last couple of drips out Teren realized he could hear something far out in the woods. It sounded like a pack of dogs barking. Out for a hunt, maybe.
Then the barking turned into yipping shrieks and howls, unmistakable sounds of an animal injured. They didn't last long, and eventually the sound of howling dogs faded away.