To bend or to Break- The complete tales of Kyla Orlouge

The Tomb

It was a quiet night, much like any other. My fingers trembled as I reached in my bag for the worn pages I’d stolen from the library days ago. The cavern entrance lay less than a hundred yards before me. I didn’t need to see the words on the page, just to hold the crinkled parchment in my hands. “Sei Orlouge. The Hero of Radasanth.” I let the words roll off my tongue.

I was so close but if I could not bring myself to take a step I might as well be across the oceans. I stood there for what seemed like hours as the moon sent shine upon the treetops that nearly covered the entrance to the tomb.

Finally, I stepped forward. If I wanted to know where I came from, where I belonged, this was it. I felt my hair stand up as my heart raced. I reached the mouth of the cave and brought my hand up to knock against the seemingly out of place door that guarded its secrets.

My first knock barely reached my own ears. I smiled, this was truly silly. I raised my hand to try it again just as the door swung open.

“How?” The word left me and hung in the air between us. The man looked to be late twenties, with deep orange hair spiking outward from his scalp. He wore a simple gray robe and no shoes. His features were handsome in a way, though certainly not enough to grab attention. There was no doubt. This was Sei.

He stepped back and held out his hand for me to enter. Still confused, I stood there. That was when a tiny paragraph from the third page came to me. Sei Orlouge was mute. He spoke entirely through telepathy. I thought as hard as I could. [i]I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but I need your help.”

The man laughed. At first it was an eerie silent laugh, one that left me feeling uneasy and unnatural. Then, I could hear it. Not with my ears. No, his voice simply found its way into my mind. I can hear just fine. Speak as you normally would little one.

So I did. I entered the house and began my story.

The bandits

I remember running. I can pull the images of the passing trees to mind as easily as that of my best friend. I remember the fear of being alone. I remember crying.

After that it all becomes more complicated. I have no memory of meeting ‘the guys’. The story has been told to me hundreds to times, but it is only the words of thieves and liars I have to go on.

Some way or another I was found by Xavior. The son of a poor trader who never returned from a three month trip to Salvar, Xavior did what he could to help his family get by . He spent most of his early life in Radasanth, the capital city of Corone, stealing coin purses and food to keep his ailing mother and mentally challenged brother sheltered and fed. Perhaps his life of crime began out of necessity, but by the time he found me, it was about greed and anger.

We never stayed in one place for long, it just wasn’t safe. I don’t think I understood how we survived until I hit my teens, though if I’m honest perhaps I just didn’t want to know. Either way, it was a game to me. I could rob you blind without you ever knowing. Your rage would fall on the elf that bumped against your shoulder as you searched for the perfect loaf of bread. No one suspected the brunette beauty with the bright blue eyes had stolen their purse in the confusion.

I developed a close friendship with Xavior’s brother, Zander. His delays made it difficult to keep him quiet when needed, and it soon became clear that only I could control his fits. He needed a mom, and even at a young age I was the closest thing available.

I was Xavior’s star pupil and no one dared touch me. I can pull to mind easily his rippling muscles beneath his worn tunic and the vein in his neck that popped up blue and angry when he lost his temper. His deep green eyes would turn cold and his brows would stiffen. It never ended well. It was enough to keep me safe. At least until I began to change.

I was around fourteen when my lanky frame began to fill out. The tiny bit of baby fat I had managed to build over the slim summers disappeared seemingly overnight and was replaced with a body I didn’t understand. It became harder to go unnoticed. I drew eyes everywhere I went and that was bad for business. I did my best not to notice that I also drew attention in the camp.

Xavior began to keep a closer eye on me, and I was rarely left alone. I was thrilled. I thrived on the attention and did my best to show him I could still be useful. I began breaking into homes and shops and filling our pockets. While the other men should have celebrated their mostly full bellies, instead they began to see me as a threat. I was too close to the boss.

Zander and I walked to a stream to clean up. He, as always, wanted some privacy, so I went upstream. I was just about to rinse my hair when I heard a strange noise above the rushing water. I assumed Zander was frightened and readied myself to help. When I turned though, it was not Zander who stood on the riverbank.

Talarni was not a large man. His greasy auburn hair fell just below his shoulders which were just below eye level. Even though he was smaller than most of the men, he always had a look in his eyes that made me keep my distance. I remember the next moments as though they just happened.

His eyes were bright with mischief. It was clear he hadn’t just happened upon me. I considered running the other direction but my shirt and pants sat less than three feet from his boots. How could I approach the camp in just my undergarments? He stood, just staring for what seemed like eternity.

I still can’t explain how it happened. I was so embarrassed, so frightened. It just fell. The tree was large, probably an oak though that is little more than a guess. The limb seemed healthy. I remember the men murmuring about dried wood and wind changes, but no one could really explain it. i stood off to the side with my clothes sticking to my still damp body awkwardly. I had scraped my heel on a stone as I climbed from the river, yelling for help. Talarni was unconscious and bright red blood flooded from his head where the limb had made first contact.

The other men dug him out as Xavior stared me down. His head was cocked to the side and I knew he saw the line of blue blood pooling beneath my feet. He wasn’t a stupid man. I wished for invisibility for the second time that day and thankfully once again my wish came true. No, I didn’t dissapear. Instead, Zander appeared from downstream.


Xavior still kept a close eye on me, but the distraction was enough for me to sit on the rivers edge and watch the strange hued blood disappear into the water.

Talarni would make a full recovery. He suffered a minor head wound but a few days would restore his strength enough to move on. I made excuses to stay away from camp as often as I could, but knew sooner or later he would speak. I packed a bag with the few items I could call mine and prepared to leave. I kept the satchel close by at all times.

The days rolled on and the man recovered, but stayed silent. There was a thick tension in the air anytime our paths crossed. His eyes were golden with specks of green and I saw them as I slept. I kept my distance from all the men. I even kept Zander at arms reach.

If I could change one thing from those days it would be that. Zander spent most of his life locked inside himself and only I could grant him a tiny reprieve. I owed that much to him. My own fears and confusion blinded me. Life would never be the same.

We did eventually settle into a new normal. The government began to crack down on crime. Zander claimed it happened every so often. The people would cry out to their leaders for security and the government would oblige just long enough to keep them quite. Life would soon enough become easier.

Those months were tough. We often slept with empty bellies with only the stars to cover us. The colder nights seemed nearly unbearable. We were often stopped and searched as we entered or left a township so we mostly kept to the wilderness.

I remember cold, hunger, sadness, and loneliness, but I cannot recall a time I felt afraid. I trusted in Xavior to keep us all safe.

I lost what remained of my baby fat that winter and as summer came and the crime hunt settled, the men found a new job for me.

The small barn we stayed in hadn’t been used in some time. The men often theorized that the owners had died. I didn’t question it. I was just glad to have a roof above my head as the summer months brought with them a stifling heat.

Each day as the sun rose I would enter the town. It was less than an hour’s walk to the small shopping district. I would bounce around from booth to booth, picking the occasional pocket when the opportunity presented itself. Mostly though, I relied on the kindness of strangers. I was certainly not beautiful. If anything, my big blue eyes were sunken from months of improper nourishment and exhaustion. The stresses of the traveling and the responsibility of ensuring the group’s needs were met left me with hollow cheeks and a forever worried expression.

These things only helped get us what we needed. I would find a bread maker or a butcher and stare longingly at their goods. Most of the time someone would take pity on me. I wish I could say I was a brilliant actress, but it was far from an act. Typically I would be given a few scraps that were then shared between the eight of us in the dusty barn.