The land was blanketed by a thin layer of mist, the full moon illuminating the fog and casting the forest in an eerie light. The trees were tall and towering, their shadows a web of darkness on the ground. They were clawing at the sky with their bare branches, reaching for the last bit of light from the moon as a heavy cloud drifted across.
The land went from silver to black.
The forest was nearly silent, save for the soft wind as it passed through the trees’ empty branches, making a sinister crackle. The soft groaning as the wide trunks moved with the wind wasn’t a very welcoming sound either. The wind picked up and a powerful gust of wind blew through the forest, sending the trees into chaos as they battered their branches against each other. The wind’s hollow wailing only added to her hammering heart.
Slowly the moon returned, yet there were no more trees. The forest was gone. They were replaced with rippling waves crashing into a rocky cliff. The water was dark, aside from the rippled reflection of the moon. There was no end to the ocean, and it almost seemed to join with the starry sky by the horizon.
She looked up at the moon as another wave crashed into the cliff. Some said they saw the faces of the gods on the moon, others said they saw an animal. She didn’t know what she saw. Pulling her eyes away from the moon she looked at the water again, just as the cliff disappeared beneath her feet.
Jaro’s eyes snapped open and a shiver ran down her spine. The dream had been haunting her for years; sometimes there wasn’t a moon, sometimes it was complete darkness, just sounds, other times it was in the middle of the day, but it always started with her in a forest and ended with her falling into the ocean. No matter how many times she dreamt it, she always found it unsettling.
She swallowed and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow she was to join her father and brothers for her first blood ceremony. It was a tradition for the kin of Kletchar, and only the kin of Kletchar, to join together on the fiftieth day of spring.
Kletchar was the first god, the father of the north. It was said the Kletchar families were descendants of him, and the god had gifted three mortal women with sons who would inherit his power. They turned into the Kletchar’Crah, Kletchar’Rek, and Kletchar’Tsen families, blessed by the celestial wife of Kletchar, Altaya, to only have sons for the rest of time.
Jaro was the first daughter born into the Kletchar’Tsen family.
Jaro was the first daughter born to any of the Kletchar families.
Her father said it was the gods' gift, to allow him to have the first daughter born in Kletchar’s line, he said it was an honor that he could have a strong and powerful daughter, like the goddess Altaya.
Two of her four brothers didn’t agree. Asgar was the second oldest at twenty years and with Kilian, who was eighteen, were terrible. They’d spent a lot of time with their uncle, Janick, when they were younger. Their uncle wasn’t very fond of women, certainly not women who acted like they were equals to men. He especially didn’t like Jaro; when she was born, he’d stormed out of the village. The first time they saw him again was two years later.
Kilian and Asgar were nicer than her uncle, and she got along with them some of the time, but they didn’t agree with their father. They said that she was a curse and that the Kletchar’Tsen family had angered the gods and were thus cursed to only have daughters from now on. Though it was nonsense, it still got to her. What could her family have done to anger the gods?
Her brother’s snore pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked over. Lysias and Jaro were twins, and Lysias looked almost identical to her. They both had the green eyes and chocolate brown hair of their mother, and a light spotting of freckles from their father. When they were younger, they liked to pretend to be the other twin to mess with people in the village, even their voices had been the same then. Now, Lysias was taller and his hair was always cut short, unlike Jaro’s, which easily went past her shoulder blades, and that’s when it was still dry and wavy. Sighing, she turned over and looked out the window.
Even though it was mid-spring and the grass was fresh and green with colorful flowers beginning to sprout, there was still snow piled beneath the trees and shadows of the houses in her village. The north was always cold, even the summer was chilly, aside from the rare sunny day. The sun was just rising in the east, making the rivers behind her village shine with a silver gold light.
“Jaro, Lysias, it’s time for breakfast” Her mother’s call distracted Jaro and she heard a tired moan from her brother, who rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.
Their room felt bigger than it was thanks to the open ceiling. They split the room, she got the side with the window, and he got the side closest to the door. Kilian was in the room to their left, Asgar to the right. Their parents and oldest brother lived on the lower floor.
“Up!” her mother stormed into the room and tore off Lysias’s blanket before rushing to her bed and doing the same.
The cold crisp air hit her like a wave and she curled up, shivering, “Trexah, honestly. It’s not that cold.” Her mother sighed, snug in her dress and furs.
“I want you both dressed and down in five minutes” and with that, their mother was out of the room.
She and Lysias took after their mother when it came to appearance, softer round faces, hair and eye color, the rounder noses. Only things they got from their father were his freckles and height; though Jaro wasn’t that much taller than her mother.
After rubbing her arms for a little warmth she pushed herself out of bed and quickly put on her clothes.
Unlike her mother, who almost always wore dresses, Jaro was much more comfortable in a tunic. She usually wore clothes that had simple colors, and today was no exception. The tunic was an older one, and so the gray color was faded, but it was comfortable, as were the socks and dark brown leggings. She would put more on when she went outside, a fur cloak, boots, gloves; but what she had on was enough. Her mother almost always had a fire going, as she was always cooking or baking, so Jaro wouldn’t be too cold.
When she stepped off the stairs and entered the hall, everyone besides Lysias were already sitting at the table. The fire was crackling in the hearth just as she’d expected.
Kilian and Asgar gave her cold nods as she sat down. They both took after their father, tall and muscular with thick red hair, strong jaws, light golden-brown eyes, and, of course, freckles.
Her father and mother gave her warm smiles, and Valek stole another piece of cheese while everyone else was greeting her.
Valek was twenty-three, seven years older than Jaro, and their father’s heir. The village they lived in would be Valek’s to protect and lead when their father died. The role of a Kletchar, the role of every leading family in the four clands, was to protect and lead. The people that lived in their village paid a tax of food, cloth, copper coins, or whatever else they could part with; one of the few helpful traditions from the south. Her father was very generous with his village, if the people could not pay, they could not pay. Some years were better than others.
“Did you sleep well?” Valek asked, stuffing more cheese in his mouth.
Unlike her and her other siblings, Valek was a perfect mix of both parents; freckles, brownish red hair, eyes with both green and gold flecks, and slim like their mother, but still tall and muscular like their father. Girls had been fawning over him since she could remember, some merchants from the south even said he could be mistaken for a southern prince. But princes didn’t exist in the north, kingdoms didn’t exist either, just clans and villages.
All three Kletchar families belonged to the Kletchar Clan, the most powerful clan in the north, and the most famous, thanks to the gods blood that ran through their veins. Then there were the Nestvek, Kastan, and Halerak clans, each known for their different skills and territories. The Nestvek’s were the fishers and sailed the icy ocean, the Kastan’s were the warriors, the Halerak’s were loners, rarely ever seen outside of clan gatherings, and the Kletchar’s were the children of the gods; though many believe the blood to have finally thinned out, as the last Melkrix had died three hundred years ago. Jaro wondered if there could be truth to that. The gods had gifted the Kletchars to only have sons, and here she was. A daughter.
Tomorrow all the Kletchar families would know about her. Her father said they would accept her, though she doubted that. Thanks to the southern influence on the north, her uncle wasn’t the only man who had something against women. She had no idea what was coming for her. Would they want to kill her? Would they kick her out of the north? Out of the clan?
Fall 
Day Weather: 
Brimstone
