Bryson appeared defeated, but not because of embarrassment. His head hung low, but not because of shame. He was a boy struggling to grasp who he was. Fighting through his thoughts, he looked toward the sky, making his face visible for the first time since before their departure from the Intel Kingdom. It was the complete opposite of the smug look he had worn before. His head leaned back on the tree as he breathed sporadically. Each intake of breath caused his nostrils to flare. Olivia continued to look at him as if she was staring straight through him. Her mouth made a thin unreadable line.
Meow Meow gazed at the sky as Bryson did, where the crusted underbelly of a floating island hovered above them. With a face of understanding, the kitten hat broke the silence: “Do you think the answers are up there?”
Bryson didn’t answer. “Often times, that’s where people look to for answers,” Meow Meow continued, still following the clouds. “You want to know who your father was. You hear from others that he was one of the greatest men to ever live—the Fifth of Five. So this makes you think that he’s up there … Powerful and pure, strolling through the Light Empire as a Bozani. Who knows if that is actually the case? After all, becoming a Bozani after death is the ultimate reward, but also astronomically rare.
“Understand this, Bryson. Regardless of who your father was, his genes are inside you. You have every chance of becoming something even greater. I know that for everyone else, reading Olivia is like trying to translate a different language, but I know what she feels and thinks, and she has every ounce of faith in you.”
Olivia stirred in her sitting position. Meow Meow looked down at Bryson with a rare comforting look.
“Everyone else knows more about my dad than I do, and I’m his son,” Bryson said. “I can’t even remember what he looks like. These people who claim to know who my dad was and who I am, trying to compare the two of us, are imbeciles. The ignorance they spit out of their pathetic mouths is complete madness, yet it still scars my heart.”
Bryson looked down from the sky at Meow Meow. His eyes were glazed and red. “But they do know more about my father. Why? Because my father—supposedly fighting to protect the Intel Kingdom’s precious princess—died in combat … I was four. I should have some inkling of memories that hold his image, but no.
“Am I supposed to live up to my father—a man I don’t even know? There’s so much pressure because he’s a legend to the Light Realm. But people fail to realize—I’M NOT MY FATHER!”
It was a shout of frustration. There was a pleading look in his eyes. It was hopelessness. Bryson would never escape the shadow of Mendac LeAnce.
2
A Cracked Mask
Bryson and Olivia were the lone stragglers behind the scattered packs of students walking toward the front doors of Phesaw. Bryson had regained his composure and his conversation with Meow Meow had taken a turn in the opposite direction.
“Obviously, they think we’re something special,” Bryson said with a proud smile.
Meow Meow rolled his eyes. “They see potential. That’s it. Whether you live up to that potential is a different story.” Olivia’s hand reached up to scratch Meow Meow’s nose. “As of right now, you are weak—very weak. Believe me.”
“What do you know?” Bryson snapped.
Meow Meow smirked and shook his head. “So young and so sure of yourself, yet so naïve.”
Bryson’s eyes narrowed.
“I suppose your residence and energy doesn’t help,” the kitten continued, ignoring Bryson’s annoyance. “Born in the Intel Kingdom, you think you know everything. After all, intelligence is your strong point … supposedly.”
Bryson bent over to grab a pebble from the stone path. He stretched his right arm across his body to loosen up his shoulder. Tossing the pebble in his hand, he said calmly, “Keep mocking my intelligence and you’ll realize that my arm can be more of a threat than my brain.”
“Drop it,” Olivia said in her monotone. “Simon is coming.”
An eleven-year-old boy was running toward them through the crowd. His shoulder-length fiery red hair whipped behind him as he sprinted. His shirt was ragged and torn at the cuffs, and his green shorts reached mid-thigh.
Bryson braced himself, readying for impact. The freckle-faced boy leaped into his arms with a genuine smile, exposing his two front teeth, which were considerably bigger than the rest.
As Bryson gave the boy a friendly hug, he asked, “How are you, Simon?” He squatted low to allow Simon to climb onto his shoulders.
“I’ve been doing great! Long summer of working the fields with my dad, but I can’t complain. We had a decent season for once!”
The four of them resumed walking again, and Simon reached across to rustle Meow Meow’s fur, which the kitten allowed. Not many people could get away with treating him like an actual house pet, but Simon was a sweet kid.
“You ready for another grueling year?” Bryson asked.
“I’m just happy to have an excuse to not be plowing fields in the hot sun all day,” Simon said. “My dad may make me work, but when Phesaw is in session, he understands what my education can bring me.”
“Smart man,” Meow Meow said.
“I’ve never doubted my dad,” Simon said with the same wide smile. He leaned over, his hair dangling in Bryson’s face, and asked with wide eyes, “What about you? What’s the great LeAnce looking forward to this year?”
Bryson smirked and started digging in his pocket for his cherished letter—and got a prompt smack on the forearm from Olivia. She slowly turned her head and blankly stared at him. “No.”
“Aww, Olivia, don’t be a downer!” Simon said with an air of disappointment. The little boy bent sideways and reached for Bryson’s pocket, causing him to nearly fall off head-first. He was saved when Bryson quickly readjusted his balance.
“Jeez, calm down. I’m not climbing those steps with a monkey attached to me,” Bryson said while letting him down.
They started their climb to the front door. “Besides, Olivia is right,” Bryson said as he stretched his shoulders. “You’ll get the answer to your question at the ceremony. I promise you big things from me this year.”
With this news, Simon’s face lit up. After all, the ceremony was only twenty minutes away.
The four of them finished their climb in silence and walked through the thirty-foot-tall wooden doors where two men frowned at their tardiness.
They were standing in a gigantic lobby that curved off to the right and left, wrapping itself around the central auditorium with many polished, wooden doors scattered across its inner wall. The ceiling was high, and tall clear windows lined the upper half of the outer wall, allowing the space to bathe in rich sunlight.
The lush, soft carpet was a wealthy red. The walls were a creamy yellow. Covering the entire ceiling was a beautiful canvas—a singular work of art. Where they stood, above them were rolling flames of orange, red, and yellow with a few blues and blacks scattered among them. However, a student following the circular path of the lobby would realize that the painting would change from flames to golden lightning to wind to Ancient Pieces to vicious slash marks that represented the sword. Then that student would find his or herself under the flames again. It was a never-ending masterpiece.
It took four guards to shut the school’s main doors. Simon gave Bryson and Olivia a quick hug and ran toward the auditorium. There were still patches of students lingering in the lobby, waiting for the last second before they took a seat inside. Olivia and Bryson sat on the floor under a portrait of an old balding man.
“If I were them, I’d be fighting my way to a front row seat right now,” Bryson said smugly.
Meow Meow laughed and shook his head. “You ever stop to think that any of these people could have also received a letter?”
Bryson’s mouth dropped with sudden disbelief. “I never thought of it that way!” He quickly sorted through the many faces peppered throughout the hall. Young, old, male, female, short, tall, skinny, fat
. After realizing he didn’t see anyone worthy of receiving a letter, he confidently said, “Nah, I don’t know any of these people.”
“So knowing them is a prerequisite?” Meow Meow asked.
Bryson looked at the kitten as if he were stupid. “Of course. I know all of the strongest people in this school.”
As Olivia began playing with her toes, Meow Meow explained, “There are a couple flaws with your logic. One, there are way too many students in this school for you to know everyone. Two, why do you keep using the term strongest? This is the Light Realm, not the Dark. Our realm does not hold the Power Kingdom. If anyone is known for their brute strength, it’s the people living in that kingdom. Plus, there are other factors to consider such as smartest, fastest, and most spirited … to name a few.”
“Most spirited?” Bryson pressed his forehead against his knees and laughed as he slapped his hand. “You really just said most spirited?!”
A disgusted look crept onto Meow Meow’s face, but Olivia was the one to respond. “Spirit motivates. Spirit holds a group together. Spirit is something everyone should have a little bit of. Don’t disregard it. The loveliest people have the liveliest spirit.”
She continued playing with her toes with an empty look. A considerable amount of silence passed until she finally said, “Spirit is a tool that can rival your intelligence.”
“Or your emotion.” It was an impulsive response, and Bryson regretted it immediately.
Olivia’s toes stopped wiggling, and she sat still for a moment. It wasn’t a natural silence, but a forced silence. Bryson suddenly became aware that he and Olivia were the only two left in the lobby. He shot a nervous glance at his best friend.
She turned and passively looked at him dead in his eyes and said, “Spirit kept your father alive longer than he should have been.” Then she pushed herself off the floor. The unreadable look in her eyes had not changed at all, but that didn’t matter, for when Olivia walked toward the polished door, a single tear trailed from Meow Meow’s eye. Despite her empty expression, somewhere deep inside her heart, Olivia was crying so hard that not even Meow Meow could completely mask the pain.
Olivia opened the door and entered the auditorium, her violet hair flowing behind her. The silence was drowned out by voices of the thousands of students occupying the seats inside. Then the door swung shut as the silence swallowed Bryson once again.
3
The Directors
A circular stage sat at the center of the massive auditorium. Row after row of mahogany benches stretched upward from the center. The only natural light came from the lone circle of glass in the ceiling directly above the center stage. Scattered throughout the audience were Intelights, which were handy sources of light that ran on Intel Energy. They only existed where there were people of the Intel Kingdom nearby to power them, which there were plenty of in a school full of students and teachers from all five of the light kingdoms. They were dim, but that was the purpose. The stage basking in sunlight was supposed to be the center of attention.
Leaning against the auditorium wall with one foot resting on the back of the last bench was Bryson. He had given up on the impossible task of pinpointing Olivia in the crowd. As he looked down the rows in front of him and across the room where faces on the other side were visible, there was nothing but an endless sea of people. Listening for a familiar voice proved useless. All that could be heard was the white noise of different conversations.
He shivered as he blew a strand of hair from his eyes. “Colder than usual,” he muttered to himself.
The anticipation of the ceremony had dissipated for him, and all he felt was frustration. To bring up the topic of emotion to Olivia was inconsiderate. She never expressed herself emotionally. And while Meow Meow never had problems expressing his own, he made a rule of never allowing what Olivia was feeling to be seen through him. He did this out of respect for her. They shared the same mind, so he knew why she concealed her sentiment and he must have appreciated those reasons.
For Meow Meow to shed a tear on Olivia’s behalf meant that Bryson had struck deep. He had only seen the kitten lose hold of Olivia’s feelings one other time, and that was the first time Bryson spoke of Olivia’s emotions. After that, he had made sure to never let the topic surface again … until today, at least.
Bryson’s worry was interrupted by the extinguishment of the Intelights. The audience disappeared in the blackness, and all that could be seen was the pillar of light shining vertically through the arena and the stage glimmering underneath it.
A podium in the shape of a halo sat at the stage’s center. It was designed for someone to stand inside of it and be able to turn and look at all sections of the circular crowd. Only one person was allowed to stand there, and he held the highest authority in Phesaw—the Grand Director. Surrounding the central podium were five, more traditional, podiums. These were intended to overlook their specific sections of the assembly, and they belonged to each of the five Energy Directors.
The stage was still vacant, but the students knew that would change very soon. The sudden lull of the crowd was a sharp contrast to the low roar from just seconds before.
Bryson looked toward the clock on the opposite wall: 8:59. A little less than one minute left. His anticipation returned. For the past eight years he had coasted through the basic routine of a student’s life at Phesaw, but he was now headed toward a different path, and a very rare one at that. Only nine others would join him on this new journey, and soon he would meet them.
The clock struck nine. Five holes in the mahogany floor emerged behind the outer podiums. The crowd murmured as five heads began to peek through the stage.
As the Energy Directors’ faces became visible, the auditorium roared. It wasn’t loud—it was deafening, and the Directors didn’t hide their appreciation. Although their postures didn’t alter, a smile was still noticeable from each of them. As their platforms came to a halt and connected with the rest of the stage, the five directors simply stood tall, hands connected behind their backs, necks long, and heads up. And they pulled this off while still appearing relaxed.
Elation filled Bryson as Debo, a very special person in his life, occupied the podium facing Bryson’s section of the crowd. Debo’s dirty brown hair was messy and rustled as always. His short, untidy bangs framed his chiseled face in an irregular way. Two golden piercings studded his left ear, one at the top and the other through the earlobe. They matched his immense director’s robes, which were also a golden yellow with a thick white trim, symbolizing the colors of electricity and his role as the Intel Director. He was the head of the Knowledge Wing of the school. Regardless of how many times he had seen Debo wear these robes, Bryson still found it odd to see him in such attire.
At the next podium in the circle stood a slightly hunched elderly woman with pure white hair woven tightly into a bun. A strand of hair fell on both sides of her face as her eyes squinted at her area of the audience. Her sky-blue robes draped over her shoulders and cascaded toward the ground. Although her physical attributes made her seem old and weak, the Spirit Director in charge of the Spirit Wing was the youngest at heart. She was the perfect example of what Olivia and Meow Meow were trying to lecture Bryson about earlier, and as he realized this, a sigh of disappointment escaped him.
Next was a tall dark-skinned man in silver robes that seemed to fit him more snugly than the others. They gripped to his body until the robe reached its hem, where it then frayed loosely a bit. Short charcoal-black hair lined at the edges framed his forehead in the shape of a square. He was the most physically fit of the directors because, quite simply, his position demanded it. He was the Adren Director of the Courage Wing. People of the Adren Kingdom were unrivaled in speed and swordsmanship, which explained the sleekness of his robes. They were meant to be aerodynamic.
A vast contrast could be seen in the next Director. He was not tiny, yet there was no denying he was short. Short enough to require his platform to be raised above the sta
ge a sizeable amount. Lines of age crowded his face. Stringy, gray hair extruding in every direction possible enclosed a balding area in the shape of a crescent moon at the top of his head. His beard was just as unkempt, and his glasses sat crooked on his nose. His robes were a sandy-brown, almost the same color as Meow Meow’s fur. It was hard to believe that this man was a Director, yet he was. The Archaic Director who led the Morality Wing had held his position longer than anyone besides the Grand Director.
Then came the most beloved of the five. Tan-skinned and dirty-blond, her bashful blush somehow fought through her already rosy cheeks. Her long, straight hair was tucked into the back of the blazing red robes that hugged her upper torso and fit snugly onto her curves. She was the Passion Director, leader of the Emotion Wing.
As the five Energy Directors held up their hands, palms facing the students, the clamor died out. A clearing of the throat echoed around the walls and ceiling.
Debo, the Intel Director, spoke first: “Ladies and gentlemen …”
The Passion Director spoke next in her high voice: “… boys and girls …”
“… please stand tall …” the Adrenaline Director continued in his deep tone.
“… but remain quiet …” the Archaic Director whispered loudly.
The Spirit Director enthusiastically finished the presentation: “… as we welcome back Grand Director Poicus!”
The five Energy Directors turned around to face the center spot, hands still behind their backs. A balding head peeked above the podium. As the platform rose, his pure white robes with silver trim began to show. He had a long white beard, but no mustache at all. The biggest oddity was his eyebrows, which were abnormally hairy, and the hair at the end of them hung down his face a little bit. He didn’t stand proud and tall, but annoyed and slouched.
The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1) Page 2
