He gave a long, weary sigh. “You must be careful of speaking too freely of The Fever here, this city has been devastated because of it," he warned, his focus growing distant. "I was merely a child in the aftermath that The Fever caused, but my mother was most affected. My father died from it and she was left in the ruins it wrecked upon our economy. No cities wished to trade with our port for fear they too would catch it."
A frown pulled at the edges of my mouth, what must it have been like a century ago? To go from a place of trade and wealth, to utter devastation and ruin. To watch neighbors and loved ones succumb to the illness, and shops that were prosperous for generations close their doors.
"Did your mother ever tell you stories of how the illness came to Port of Arisha?" Rena asked, sympathy coating her words.
His fingers drummed against his glass, expression listful as if he were being transported back to a different time, a different place.
"The woman who first brought it to our shores was Luanthian," he began as a shaky exhale came from his lips. “She had travelled here from the northern Tavarrian cities and within days of arriving, had fallen gravely ill. From there it spread like the eternal fire of Soli herself, ravaging family after family."
His dark eyes shut, the grief evident in his voice. Even if he himself hadn't been there, the generational trauma that must have come from such a horrid thing was stark. “The townsfolk spoke of it as a curse. A deadly thing set on us by dark magic, for even then Luanthians and Solerians hatred for each other was vast." His eyes reopened, and he tooka long sip of his tea. "When it was spread that it was a Luanthian who was the cause of so much pain and grief, it was as if the Nine Hells themselves turned upon our fair-haired neighbors. They were dragged into the streets and beaten for the sickness their Goddess had supposedly wrought upon us."
I suddenly felt sick, a hand coming to my mouth in horror.
"They murdered the Luanthians that had lived with them for generations?" Rena asked, disgust coating her words, eyes wide with disbelief.
The old man raised a brow. “Is that not also what our King ordered nearly fifteen years ago? A cleansing in the name of the Sun Goddess?" A deep grief seemed to swallow him whole, his body hunching even further in on itself, despite the hardening of his words. “The people thought sacrifices would appease the Sun Goddess, that she would protect them from the illness her hellish sister had cast over mortals. Clearly that was not the case.”
I took another sip from my tea, hands trembling as I collected my thoughts. “So the general consensus here is the same as the north? That the Goddess Lua is the cause of The Fever, that it's a punishment?"
The old man hesitated. “Well, there is another tale that some believe in."
"Which is?" Rena's voice was imploring, the twin braids she had weaved when we awoke fell over her shoulders as she leaned closer.
"That The Fever is a curse from the demon brothers of the Nine Hells."
We fell quiet at that, exchanging shocked looks, neither of us having ever heard anything of the sort.
"What exactly is the story?" My fingers tightened around my glass.
"All of Tavari knows the story of the Goddesses Soli and Lua, sisters of the Sun and Moon. A perfect balance of light and dark for our worldto thrive and prosper. Yet, the rivalry between them has torn our people to shreds. We all know the catalyst for their dislike of each other to be when Soli plunged her blade into the heart of Calzar, the fire breathing demon who had fallen in love with Lua."
We nodded together at this, both having heard the story many times as children.
"I do not know the origins of this legend, but I have heard it on many a late night around campfires or in taverns. It is said that Calzar's brothers, the eight left to rule over the nine realms of hell, sought vengeance for the death of their brother. They swore to destroy the sister Goddesses for what had become of Calzar, thus the rift between the Hells and the Kingdom of the Goddesses was never bridged. It is whispered that the demon brothers are the creators of the wretched illness, designed to further tear apart those who follow either of the Goddesses. For the sisters hate to see their people suffer, so what better way to punish them than to punish the creations they loved so dearly?"
"How long has this story been around?”
He shrugged, "for at least as long as I have been alive."
So a long damned time then.
Chapter Twenty Three
The tavern was bustling with life as Bran led us through the door, a stark contrast to the streets outside.
Everywhere I looked there were people mingling, enjoying drinks and heaping plates of food, laughter echoing off the walls of the space. The sound of sweet, lively music floated throughout the smoky room from a group stationed on a little wooden platform. It seemed like a haven for the locals, a little pocket of happiness in the otherwise desolate town.
"How did you find this place?" Rena asked curiously as she glanced around, pushing back the cerulean fabric that shaded her and letting it fall around her neck.
Bran shrugged, lightly tapping his nose. “Following delicious smells has never failed me before."
Laughing, I searched for our other two companions as we made our way through the crowd of bodies. I caught the wary looks that followed, the tables that hushed as we passed by. It was clear Port of Arisha had grown accustomed to the solitude of less trade, and I couldn't blame them for being suspicious of newcomers.
"A little unfriendly, aren't they?" Rena murmured, hooking an arm through mine as we continued towards the back of the tavern.
"Can you blame them?" My voice too was quiet, kept from prying ears. “Their economy and livelihood was ravaged by travelers carrying illness."
"Over here!"
