Paragon

by Rowan Rook

  And any urge to thank her vanished. Her tone wasn't mocking, though, just confused. Her honest bewilderment was almost worse.

  "I just skimmed them for sections that seemed relevant!" His flush deepened. "I have poor eyes. I can't read well for long periods."

  "Poor eyes?" She blinked. "Do you need glasses?"

  "Glasses?" His poor eyes stared down at his shoes.

  "You should tell Rickard. She can get you a pair." Her own eyes narrowed. "I guess you must be really poor."

  He opened his mouth, but she pulled something from her pocket before he could argue. "Here. She told me to give you this." She passed him a carefully rolled sheet of paper.

  "What is it?" He eyed it curiously.

  "It's step-by-step instructions for finishing the assignment," she explained matter-of-factly. "You're running out of time, so Rickard wrote that up for you."

  He stuttered in surprise, not quite believing her words until he unrolled the sheet and looked it over himself. It was exactly what she said it was. Rickard was the one who'd given him the assignment. If it was a test, why had his proctor just handed him the answers?

  There was only one explanation, although he didn't understand it. "She wants me admitted into the school." Why else would the Head Scientist have waived tuition to begin with? He doubted the Academy's policies condoned any of it. "Why...?"

  He hadn't really expected an answer, but the girl rolled on the balls of her feet. "She told me that you—" Her eyes widened, as if she'd suddenly realized she was doing something wrong.

  "Eh?" He blinked.

  "Nothing," she corrected, her hands clenching around the hem of her skirt.

  An obvious lie if he'd ever heard one. "But there has to be some reason she'd do all this to get me in. What did she say?"

  "She didn't say anything!" she retorted, face reddened with obvious irritation. "I...think she just wants more science students." She fiddled with the hem, but managed to raise her eyes to his. Her hard gaze made it clear that she wasn't going to budge.

  He bit his lip. "It's Shakaya, isn't it? I saw you with Rickard at the door."

  Shakaya nodded. "Your name is Amaranth. It's a weird name, so I remembered."

  He grimaced—she wasn't the first to say that. "Is it really so strange?"

  He'd mumbled mostly to himself, but she tilted her head. "It's a flower, right? If you take good care of it, it's supposed to live forever."

  He froze, gooseflesh tingling up his arms.

  "Boys aren't supposed to be named after flowers."

  The feeling faded, replaced by another frown. No matter. "Rickard...is she your mother?" He'd assumed so, but she'd referred to her by name.

  Shakaya's nostrils flared. "No."

  Well, that settled that. But if she wasn't her daughter, what was she doing at the Academy? She looked too young to be a student, but... "Are you a student here?"

  "Not yet, but I'm going to be a soldier—just like Mom and Dad." She twirled on her left heel in a way that brought to mind a dancer much more than a soldier. Nonetheless, her lips formed the first real smile he'd seen on them. He'd begun to wonder if they were capable of anything but blankness "I'm just not old enough yet. I'm twelve, and you have to be sixteen to take classes. Rickard's letting me stay with her until then."

  Ah, so she was another student hopeful who this Head Scientist had taken an interest in. Never mind that she didn't even intend to become one of her science students. So much for that excuse.

  Watching the young girl who'd been too nervous to come inside for over an hour, he had difficulty picturing a soldier. He wondered whether she'd change her mind as she grew older, but didn't say anything—he probably didn't seem the most promising scientist just then, either.

  He turned away, studying the instructions she'd brought. "My mother was a soldier, too."

  "Really?" A flicker of interest crossed her indifferent eyes.

  Perhaps he'd made the mistake of engaging her for too long. He hadn't intended to start a conversation—his curiosity about Rickard and this strange school had gotten the best of him. Even with instructions, the assignment would take time to finish.

  Amaranth replied with a terse nod. "In her hometown, not here."

  Shakaya opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off, "Thank you for bringing the instructions, but I really should focus on my work."

  She frowned slightly, her curiosity fading. "Do you need any more help? Rickard's taught me a bit about what the science students do."

  "I have enough help as is," he sighed.

  She sunk into silence, but she didn't leave. She simply stood by his desk.

  Not wanting to waste anymore time, Amaranth followed Rickard's walkthrough as though she wasn't there. He could feel her eyes on him and hear the rise and fall of her lungs. Each of her exhales broke his concentration.

  "Rickard made me help make cookies in the kitchen this morning. Do you want some?" Her tone rang dissonant with her words.

  "No, thank you." He eyed her from the corner of his gaze instead of looking up. A scowl was set along her lips.

  He didn't get it. It was clear that she didn't want to be there—she hadn't from the beginning—yet she silently refused to leave. Why was she so insistent on staying when she didn't want to?

  "I'm sorry, would you mind leaving?" He tried to keep his impatience from his voice, "It's hard to concentrate with someone watching."

  Her frown deepened. "But..." She shuffled her feet and bit her lip. "Okay...but after you finish, I can show you around the school. It's a lot bigger than it looks. Rickard lets me up on the lab floor, so I can even—"

  "I'm not here to find friends," he interrupted. "Thank you for the offer. It's quite kind, but I'd rather be left alone." He returned to his work, hoping that would end the conversation. He functioned best on his own. And it was certainly ideal if he remained alone at the Academy.

  Amaranth wasn't convinced that friendship was what the girl was after, but his words seemed to work on her. After a final glare, her blue eyes freezing over, Shakaya left the study without another word.

  He shrugged off the shiver.

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  "Ama."

  Amaranth felt the tap on his shoulder and heard the voice. He stirred, but the black veil of slumber was too heavy to lift.

  "Dinner is here."

  He groaned, the darkness of sleep starting to let him go. He opened his eyes to see the soldier staring across the passenger booth with a tray of sandwiches, fruit, and tea between them. They'd made the order from the dining car an hour or so earlier—he must've slept through the server's arrival. He blinked a few times to dismiss the last black threads.

  It had been a long time since he'd dreamed about his first days at the Academy, so many years ago. He groggily grabbed his cup and sipped the tea—a bitter, caffeinated herbal mix—in the hope it would help wake him, but ignored the food, not hungry just yet.

  He stared absently out the window while a quaint farming village passed by beyond the glass. Noirore. It was Shakaya's hometown, but since she hadn't commented, neither would he. He watched windmills and barns sink into the distance, bordered by seas of wheat. The summer season painted the town in countless shades of green and gold and turned it into a popular vacation spot for city folk weary of gray, but autumn exchanged the greens for reds and browns. The warm season's last leaves desperately clung to the trees and fell to the weeds below when they inevitably failed. Even though they were only one day out from Elavadin, it felt like they were on an entirely different continent compared to the grandeur of the advanced city.

  The arrival of evening ate away the afternoon light. They wouldn't have access to the view for much longer, but they would soon reach the southwestern port that would serve as their base of operations. According to the station, the train would get them there shortly after midnight on the second day.

  On rails, the trek from one end of Lusanthine to the other cost little more than one night and two days.
It was a stretch of land surrounded on all sides by the ocean. Its overseas neighbor, Havventhale, was just about twice as large, and the Rinvale Islands between them were nearly half its size. Auratessa's population stretched across the two main continents, consisting of approximately two billion Humans while the total number of Lyrum remained unknown. Some scientists predicted that space would fall short if Humankind continued multiplying at its current rate, but with the open plains outside the window, Auratessa seemed empty and vast.

  Amaranth caught Shakaya preparing her tea from the corner of his eye. He'd tried to suggest some other blends during their lunch hours at the Academy, but she always took the same one: a sweet, fruity mix typically enjoyed by children. Plucking a lemon wedge from her bowl, she squeezed in juice and stirred it with her finger—an odd, and rather unsanitary, habit. He'd learned it best not to say anything a long time ago. As tight-lipped and taciturn as she might seem, she was actually rather predictable. She always reacted the same way to the same situations. She never changed.

  That only made his memories odder, though. There was still a lot he didn't understand from the days when they'd been but children. He looked to his companion, his mind still heavy with sleep. "You never did tell me. Why Rickard helped me make it into the Academy, I mean."

  "What?" Shakaya glanced up from her tea. "What are you talking about?"

  He wasn't sure if she was avoiding the question or genuinely confused—he had pulled the topic out of the ether.

  "The day we first spoke," he clarified, still halfway watching the landscapes beyond his window. "I asked you why Rickard wanted me admitted into the Academy. You started to answer, but you cut yourself off. There has to be some reason she went to all that trouble, surely?"

  Her eyes widened when what he was asking finally clicked. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to remember that moment. She stared into her teacup, quiet for a long while.

  "It wasn't anything, really," she finally insisted. "It's true that there weren't many science students that year. Unlike many of them, who only entered the Academy to please their wealthy parents, she could see that you really wanted and needed it, so she thought you deserved a chance. She said that you seemed promising." The soldier ran her fingers along the rim of her cup. "I wasn't supposed to say anything in case it found its way to the rest of the students. Can't have the Head Scientist playing favorites."

  "I see..." Amaranth's gaze returned to the glass. "I suppose it doesn't really matter now, anyway."

  She was lying. Her small habits betrayed her stoic face. She wasn't one to fiddle, but when she lied, she couldn't keep her hands still. It was a certain giveaway. Disappointment settled into his stomach, but he didn't say anything else on the matter. It wouldn't do any good.

  Their relationship was...strange, when he stopped to think about it. It had been strange from the very beginning. She had started clinging to him like a shadow and never stopped, and over time, he'd come to accept it. Except when required by their separate occupations, they were almost always together. That was simply the way things were.

  Through the years, they'd settled into the pretense of best friends who told each other everything. In fact, he knew that if it were up to Shakaya, they'd probably be more. But was any of that really true? They did confide in each other, yes, but for every secret they shared, it seemed another went unspoken. There were so many things he hadn't told her, things he never would. Sometimes it seemed, in whatever odd way, they genuinely needed each other. Other times, he wondered if anything had changed much at all from when he'd seen her hovering by the study door.

  Whatever they had together was comfortable. But with such a shaky foundation, was there any possible way it could last forever?

  A sad sting cut through his nostalgia. Nothing was going to last forever, he reminded himself. That was also a simple fact. It was all the more reason he couldn't fail.

  "Is something wrong?" Shakaya asked, looking up from her meal.

  Had the melancholy reached his face?

  Amaranth shook his head. "I...just had some odd dreams."

  Shakaya frowned. She was nearly finished with her food, yet he'd hardly touched a thing. He simply wasn't hungry. Instead, he leaned his chin on his palm and stared off into the scenery, the cuff around his wrist visible. He caught her eyeing it, but didn't say anything until she did.

  "Will that thing truly be enough to keep you safe?" Worry slipped into her voice, "You said yourself that it's unstable, and last time..."

  He glanced her way, smiling slightly. "You also talked me into taking that handgun, remember?" He wasn't sure what good it would do, really. He knew how to fire one. That didn't necessarily mean he had the skill to use one properly if his life depended on it.

  "Yes, but..." She apparently understood the same thing.

  "It'll be fine." He forced his weak smile to turn into a grin. "The reaction yesterday came from overexertion. I'll just have to be more careful. That's all."

  Her blue eyes narrowed. "Can that thing only use fire?"

  A tingle worked its way up from his wrist to the nape of his neck. "Unfortunately, yes. That's how it's designed. Ultimately, the idea is to emulate a full range of Translation, but that won't happen until it's stable in its current form, at the very least."

  "I'm surprised you chose to build it around fire. I would've thought you'd pick something more...natural." Her disapproval—or perhaps disappointment—made it into her voice, "It doesn't suit you."

  "I would've liked that," he admitted, flushing. "I still don't care for fire."

  She didn't need to answer for him to know she agreed.

  Amaranth sucked in a breath, swearing he could still taste the acrid bite of smoke winding through the Academy's halls. Even if his injuries were already starting to heal, the assault would surely leave fresh scars in his memories...and even if she hid them well, he was sure the invasion had reopened Shakaya's own mental wounds. Both of them had lost their previous homes and loved ones to arson. Her family and their legacy had burned to the ground, and flames had stolen away his parents and his two sisters. Their similar tragedies were one of few traits they shared.

  "Fire is a generative ability, and generative abilities have much simpler patterns to work with than those that manipulate already existent matter, like natural growth or the body," Amaranth tried to explain, picking at the uncomfortable situation like a scab.

  Shakaya nodded to show that she at least partially understood. It was also clear that she still didn't entirely approve. She never had liked the idea of the Not, and that it was fire it offered didn't help in the least. "What does it feel like?" her voice was unusually hesitant.

  Amaranth arched his brow. "Translation?"

  "It's not natural for Humans to use it. It must feel strange."

  "Well, I can't say for sure if it would feel the same for a Lyrum or not, but..." He tapped his fingers on the table. "It isn't so different from moving a limb. It's like an extension of the body—waiting to be contracted and stretched like the muscles in an arm—but it takes energy and focus to will into existence. It's all instinct, though. Even I quickly developed the instincts for it after messing with the Not." He scratched the back of his head. "I'm not skilled, so I can't control it well, and I used up more energy than was necessary."

  "I'd be a bit worried if you were good at it." Her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. "How long has it been functional?"

  He tensed. "Not terribly long. A year or so."

  Her face hardened, but it was with concern. "It won't shorten your lifespan?"

  He shook his head. "The patterns themselves and the presence of Word in a Lyrum's body cause short lives, but in my case, it's the Not itself that contains them. It...isn't a part of my body." He forced a smile. "Thank Heavens."

  Shakaya's shoulders relaxed. "It'll go away, right? It would go away if you took off the cuff?"

  "Of course," Amaranth answered quickly. "It's just an emulation, after all. Unstable or not, I truly d
on't believe it will do any harm if it hasn't already. There's no need to worry."

  Shakaya stared for a while longer, but didn't say anything else. Instead, she finished off her remaining pieces of fruit, ignoring the fork beside her plate to plop them into her mouth with her fingers. "We'll be at our station soon. You really should eat something. We won't have another chance to until— "

  A loud clunk echoed through the train car.

  Both the soldier and the scientist stiffened. Shakaya didn't say anything, but Amaranth saw every muscle in her body tense. The two of them were riding in the last passenger car, reserved for soldiers disembarking at the southwest station. The other passengers had largely slept or eaten the hours away, but now a wave of startled whispers rushed through the booths.

  Amaranth stammered, his heart picking up speed at the reactions he was seeing from the soldiers. "W-what was—"

  A second clang shook the car just as suddenly as the first, followed by a sharp, shrill crack.

  Then came the drop.

  The car surged sideways, throwing passengers from their seats.

  Time rushed by in an overwhelming blur. Amaranth's stomach leaped into his throat, but the sequence of events as the car disconnected from the train, lost its balance, and skid down the hill on its side happened far too fast for real fear to take shape. Instead, it was shock that spilled through the seats. Screams rose up—some may have belonged to him—before many ended with the final smash.

  Chapter Six: Paragon

  The car's impact with the crags was strong enough to break necks and shatter skulls, and in those first beats later, the silence suggested every passenger was dead.

  When the shouts came, they split open the silence in the tense night air. They were bloated with dread and broken with shock, but significantly less in number than the shrieks heralding the fall.

  To Amaranth, the noise was all gibberish. At first, he wasn't sure if he had survived or if he were a ghost lingering at the scene. He couldn't feel his body at all. He wasn't breathing. Then, as the seconds passed, he realized that the strange vibrations in his head came from his pulse. Air surged into his lungs with a gasp. He was alive, at least, winded and shaken. His heart pounded too loud to let him make sense of anything.