by Claire Luana
“They could be alive,” Quitsu said.
“My mother, maybe,” Kai said. “But I don’t know how my father could have survived Youkai’s death sentence.”
“Don’t lose hope.”
“He would have loved you,” Kai said to Quitsu. “He would joke that he preferred animals to humans. Much more honest, he’d say.”
“Smart man,” Quitsu said.
“Do you think they would let me return to Kita?” Kai mused.
“For good? No, I don’t get the impression that the queen would be too happy about that.”
“No, just for a mission. To rescue my mother.”
“I don’t think so,” Quitsu admitted. “But you could ask. At the worst, they would say no.”
Kai rounded a bend in the path and slammed headfirst into another woman. She stumbled backwards from the force of the contact. She had been wrapped up in her thoughts.
“I’m so sorry,” Kai said and then fell silent as she saw who stood opposite her.
She was one of the most unusual women Kai had ever seen. She was small and slight, like a child, with her silver hair cut short. But her face—her face was ageless, filled with mesmerizing dark violet eyes that seemed to swirl with ribbons of smoke. A tiny silver owl fluttered above her.
“Kailani,” the woman said, using Kai’s full given name, a name that Kai’s parents had used only when she was in the worst sort of trouble. Her body stilled and her violet eyes gazed into the distance. The owl began to dart frantically to and fro above her head.
Kai took a step back.
As the woman continued speaking, her voice seemed to become two, three, a thousand voices in one.
“Daughter of Azura. Daughter of Miina. Hear these truths.
The moon cannot enslave the sun, nor make the day its mistress.
Or victory shall spell defeat, a crimson sky its auspice.
The sun and moon must shine as one, or all will be undone.”
The hackles on the back of Quitsu’s neck rose as the woman spoke. If Kai had any, they would have done the same. It was a moment before Kai could articulate a question.
“How do you know my name?” Kai asked. “Who are you? And what do you mean daughter of Azura? My mother’s name is Hanae.”
The woman started, shaking her head as if to clear it, blinking rapidly. Her owl had calmed, landing on her shoulder, shaking its feathers.
“Hello,” the woman said, her voice bright. She sounded like a different person. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“What?” Kai asked. “You just said my name. I’m Kai. Who are you?”
“I thought it was obvious. I am Roweni,” she said. “But most just call me the Oracle.”
Of course. Kai felt foolish. She bowed slightly, hoping to make up for practically plowing the woman over.
“This is Giselli,” the Oracle said, motioning to her seishen. “She tells me I just prophesied?”
“I think so,” Kai said. “You went all stiff and said some strange things.”
“Quite the honor. Some live for years at the citadel and never hear a prophecy. You never know when one is going to bubble up.”
“I suppose not,” Kai said cautiously.
“Come sit with me for a moment,” the Oracle said, nodding her head toward a nearby bench.
They walked to it and sat down. The Oracle’s gait was smooth and graceful, as if she was gliding. Kai felt ungainly in comparison.
“Normally my visions are reserved for the queen, but obviously, this one was meant for you. A time of great change is coming. You have a part to play in it.”
“I can’t imagine what,” Kai said. She wished they wouldn’t keep talking about great change, and the goddess choosing her, and all that. She didn’t even know how to moonburn!
“Now what did I say?” the Oracle asked. “You don’t know?” Kai asked.
“No, that is one of the more annoying parts of being an Oracle. I have never heard one of my own prophecies.”
Kai tried to remember. “You called me the daughter of Azura. Who is Azura?”
“Your mother,” the Oracle said.
“My mother was named Hanae,” Kai protested again.
“We all have secrets,” the Oracle said, and motioned with her hand for Kai to hurry up. “What else did I say?”
You talked about the moon trying to enslave the sun . . . but that they have to work together.”
“Interesting.”
“A crimson sky . . .”
“And that victory will spell defeat,” Quitsu said.
“Yes, that’s most of it.” Kai frowned. “I don’t understand any of it. My mother is not named Azura. And how could the moon enslave the sun? And how could victory spell defeat? Are you sure your prophecy skills are . . . you know, working correctly?”
The woman laughed, ignoring Kai’s sudden stream of questions. “Oh, my child. There is so much you do not understand. Your mind is like a fresh piece of rice paper.”
Kai bristled, not knowing whether to be offended.
“To know the future is a heavy burden. The goddess does not hand us an instruction manual on what is to come. What we mortals are gifted with is only a glimpse, sometimes a word, a sentence, an image. It is all we can be trusted with.”
“Then what good is prophecy at all?” Kai complained.
For a moment, the Oracle sat still as a statue, but for the blinking of her charcoal violet eyes. The silence stretched between them.
“You will have to wait and see, little fox.”
Kai looked up sharply. Only her father had ever called her that. Her voice caught in her throat. “How did you . . .”
“You will have to wait and see.”
Kai knew a dismissal when she heard one. The Oracle would give her no further insight that day.
CHAPTER 11
Kai and Quitsu walked back to her room and managed to sleep a few hours.
The Oracle’s words echoed in Kai’s head, and she dreamt of crimson skies and the moon shackling the sun. She woke feeling more exhausted than when her head hit the pillow.
Kai attended her classes that night. Quitsu wanted to explore on his own and raced off across the courtyard into the cooling night air.
Kai felt uneasy about him leaving her sight, even though he was safe here in the citadel. He had become an extension of her.
Kai and Pura met in the glass and iron room once again, but Pura did not encourage her to moonburn. She showed Kai how to link to another burner, and Kai cast her consciousness into Pura’s. Their class was blissfully uneventful, and Kai proceeded to her next class when it was over, rather than the hospital ward.
Kai’s History class was the first she shared with other novices. She felt self-conscious as she sat among rows of gray-clad girls who all looked to be between twelve to fourteen years of age. Pura had told her that the staff would endeavor to help her move through her core classes quickly to allow her to catch up with the other students her age. Kai prayed it was true.
The teacher strode into the classroom and Kai had to stifle a smile. The woman was diminutive, wrinkled beyond belief. Her hair was white, even beyond the moonburner silver, and pulled into a severe bun. She wore robes of orange and an obi belt of scarlet, some of the first bright colors Kai had seen worn at the citadel. Maybe when you got that old, no one told you what to do.
A fresh-faced girl next to her leaned over and whispered: “We have a wager going on whether she lived through the first battles herself.”
Kai snickered, trying to muffle her mirth. She looked up and started, as the miniature woman stood before her, dark eyes like iron.
“Our newest student. Already thinking herself too good for my lessons, I see. I am Mistress Furie. And you will be quiet in this classroom.”
Kai nodded solemnly.
Mistress Furie walked back towards the front of the room, remarkably spry for her advanced age. “We were just studying the Fracturing and the beginning of the Burning War. Since you ar
e obviously too advanced for my class, why don’t you share with us what caused the Fracturing?”
Kai’s face reddened. She had always been home-schooled. This situation felt uncomfortably new for her. Mistress Furie tapped her tiny foot. Kai cleared her throat. She did remember the history detailed in the The Rising Sun. That would have to do, though it was a fable.
“Yes . . . Mistress Furie. In the beginning, Tsuki and Taiyo were husband and wife. They ruled together over the heavens and there was peace. Tsuki had a wandering eye, though, and a handsome mortal man caught her eye. She laid with him and became pregnant. When she had the baby, the first moonburner girl, Taiyo became enraged, realizing her betrayal. He threw a fit and his anger spread across the earth. Tsuki and her lover fled, and while chasing them, Taiyo raised volcanoes that we now call the Akashi Mountains, and scorched the land, creating the Tottori desert. Tsuki, her lover, and their daughter stayed ahead of him and settled in a fertile land along a snaking river, creating their own land of Miina. Taiyo created the sunburners to track Tsuki and her progeny down and destroy them. They have been fighting ever since.”
Kai finished, realizing she had been talking rapidly to compensate for her nervousness. But overall, that had been a pretty good telling of the history. She looked around. Mistress Furie and all of the other students stared at her aghast, mouths hanging open. Mistress Furie was the first to recover.
“Is that what they teach you in Kita? No wonder it is such a backwards place. No, child, I assure you that the Fracturing was not a result of any wrongdoing on the part of our goddess Tsuki. That snake Taiyo is to blame. Can anyone enlighten our new student about what actually caused the Fracturing?”
A freckle-faced girl with red hair streaked with silver shot her hand up eagerly, giving Kai a withering glance over her shoulder.
“You,” Mistress Furie pointed at the girl.
“Tsuki and Taiyo were married. Tsuki traveled among the people of the world, helping them build and grow crops, healing them. She cared deeply for their human children, and those she healed began gaining special powers. Taiyo was a jealous, selfish god, who wanted all of Tsuki’s attention for himself. He was sure that she was lying about what she was doing. He grew paranoid and thought she was raising an army to defeat him. He created a prison for Tsuki and created his own sunburners using evil blood magics. He scorched the Tottori desert surrounding the prison, so he could always keep his watchful eye on her. Her moonburners came to rescue her one night, and they escaped to Miina. Taiyo has been attempting to destroy Tsuki and her moonburners ever since.”
“Very good,” Mistress Furie purred. “That is an excellent recitation. Now who can tell me from the reading about the founding of Kyuden?”
Other hands went up around the room and Kai tuned out, lost in thought. She had always thought the story of the Fracturing seemed a little farfetched. Now hearing Miina’s version, she was sure that neither were the truth. How could two countries hate each other bitterly for two different reasons? Thousands had died in the hundreds of years of the Burning War. Babies were slaughtered in Kita. For what? A lover’s quarrel between gods? Neither version of the Fracturing seemed to justify hundreds of years of death and devastation. What had really happened?
Kai looked at Mistress Furie. Whatever the truth, she would not find it in this class.
Kai finished History class and made her way to Zoology. Mistress Adiru, who was also the rookery-mistress in charge of the koumori, was in the middle of a unit on the koumidi, tiny bats that the moonburners used to carry messages.
Mistress Adiru was a pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman with straight silver hair cut into blunt bangs and a bob just above her shoulders. Her navy uniform was covered with a leather jerkin, and she had one forearm wrapped in leather, to protect her skin from the koumidi’s tiny claws.
Mistress Adiru was an engaging teacher, clearly passionate and knowledgeable about her subject. Kai found herself warming to the woman immediately and she felt almost comfortable by the time she and the rest of her novice class left the Koumori ground and made their way to the sparring ring for their last class of the night, Weapons and Combat.
The fresh-faced girl who she had sat by in History caught up with Kai and walked beside her. Though the girl was a head shorter than Kai herself and at least five or six years younger, she didn’t appear intimidated.
“How’s the professor for Weapons?” Kai asked, searching for a topic of conversation.
“Amazing. The Eclipse teaches us. She is remarkable. She could shoot a koumidi out of a dark sky with a bow and arrow,” the girl said, with a touch of awe in her voice. “Not that she would.”
“Nanase?” Kai asked. “I thought she was the headmistress of the school? I didn’t know she taught classes.”
“Nanase used to be armsmistress, and taught all the weapons and fighting classes. When the queen promoted her to headmistress, she didn’t want to give it up. She does both.”
“Why do they call her the Eclipse?” Kai asked, curiosity overwhelming her.
“You have heard about the Flare War, about twenty years ago?”
“Of course,” Kai said. “Miina and Kita had almost signed a peace accord when it all fell apart. It was the worst bloodshed in two hundred years.”
The girl nodded. “Well, they say that Nanase killed so many sunburners on the battlefield that the sun went dark in mourning when it was done.”
Kai couldn’t help but chuckle. “That sounds like a myth if I’ve ever heard one.”
The girl sniffed. “There are several stories, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction. That story always seemed the most believable to me. If you really want to know the truth, you could always ask her.”
“That sounds like a good way to get myself eclipsed,” Kai said, trying to make up for offending the other girl.
She giggled.
As they entered the sparring ring, the other girls dispersed, moving into a loose formation. Kai mimicked their stiff, wide-legged stance, clasping her hands behind her back. She somehow had ended up with the freckle-faced redhead next to her. Kai inwardly groaned at the girl’s arrogant stance, exuding feigned importance and maturity. Was the girl truly in such a hurry to be taught to kill? But then she blanched, her arrogance giving way to fear. The rest of the girls shifted slightly on their feet.
“Novices!” A harsh voice rang into the night. Kai’s head whipped towards the speaker, and she saw Chiya shoving past a thin girl into the ring, causing her to stumble.
“Nanase has more important places to be tonight than teaching your sorry asses. So lucky me, I get to whip you into shape.” Chiya’s raccoon dog seishen scaled the large juniper tree that leaned protectively over the sparring ground, observing the group.
Chiya caught sight of Kai and smiled coldly. She walked over and stood before Kai nose to nose, a pillar of muscle. Chiya had a slight bruise on one cheekbone, no doubt from her latest sparring match. It only made her look more intimidating.
“Our newest novice. Normally, you know, the citadel doesn’t take novices over fourteen. But apparently, you are special. Don’t you feel special, learning to walk among these children?” Chiya asked, motioning to the other novices. If the other girls were offended, none was foolish enough to voice it, or so much as frown in displeasure.
“Or perhaps you think you are special because you have a seishen?” Chiya asked. She looked around. “But why isn’t he here? Bored of you already?”
Kai struggled to keep her temper in check.
“I don’t think I am special, or better than anyone. I am here to learn.” Kai bowed her head respectfully, even though it felt contrary to every fiber of her being. She didn’t need to antagonize Chiya.
Chiya stepped back and considered Kai, a frown on her face. She had clearly hoped Kai would rise to the bait. She turned to the class.
“Grab your staffs!” she barked. The girls scrambled to the side of the ring, picking up wooden staffs from a pile resting agai
nst the side of the nearest building.
“Formation!”
The girls quickly settled into evenly spaced rows before Chiya. Kai, watching the others, managed to find a place without too much difficulty.
Chiya took them through a set of exercises with the staffs. The novices had clearly done these exercises before, as they all flowed from move to move, knowing which was coming next. Kai found herself a beat or two behind on every move, as she looked around her to see what the other girls were doing. Chiya delighted in her tardiness and with each moved berated Kai.
“Kai, you call that a katana? Embarrassing!”
“No, left then right, Kai, are you blind and stupid?”
Kai grew more and more flustered under Chiya’s taunting until she stopped, setting the butt of her staff down on the ground in frustration.
“Stop,” Chiya hollered. She stormed before Kai. “Do you think yourself too good for these exercises, novice?”
“No,” Kai snapped, eyes flashing. “But I have never seen the moves before. Of course I don’t know what is coming next. Maybe give me one chance before you tell me that I am doing it wrong!”
“You want a chance, do you? Do you think a sunburner will give you a chance on the battlefield? Your slowness could be the death of you, or one of your sisters! You think you deserve special treatment, but it will get the rest of us killed.”
“I don’t think I deserve special treatment. I am just trying to learn. But I can’t do that with you yelling at me every second!”
“You want to learn?” Chiya lowered her voice so only Kai could hear her. “I will teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”
Chiya stalked over to the wall and picked up two spears with curved blades on the end. She tossed one to Kai, who caught it in the air. As she looked at the blade, a memory bubbled to the surface. Kai and her father, driving cattle to market in the next town over, passing two handsomely armored sunburner warriors riding lion-horses. While Kai had ogled the immense feet and manes of the golden beasts, her father had explained every piece of armor and weaponry the sunburners possessed.
