Underestimated Affinities
Wings Series – Book One
Matthew Scarcella
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, and not intended by the author.
Copyright © Matthew Scarcella; 2019
The work in this book is the intellectual property of Matthew Scarcella, and all rights are reserved by this sole proprietorship. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, including but not limited to information storage, without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such, without the explicit permission of the author, is strictly prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Cover art by Humbert Glaffo (White Background)
KDP ISBN: 9781093671223 | ASIN: B07T5YSKBL
Cover art by Benjamin Roque (Sunset Background)
KDP ISBN: 9781072565598 | ASIN: B07T51ZVND
Self-published by Matthew Scarcella via Amazon KDP
UnderestimatedAffinities.com
(Under Construction at time of Publication)
For my mother, who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself
Contents
CHAPTER I - THE SUNKEN CITY
CHAPTER II - REFLECTIONS
CHAPTER III - BELARIN
CHAPTER IV - SAFEYYA'S TRUST
CHAPTER V - TRAINING SURPRISE
CHAPTER VI - AISLYNN'S NATURE
CHAPTER VII - AETHYR'S HUMILITY
CHAPTER VIII - THE COUNCIL'S DECREE
CHAPTER IX - WHAT DWELLS BENEATH MAKORO
CHAPTER X - REVELATION
CHAPTER XI - QUESTIONS UNANSWERED
CHAPTER XII - A BRIEF RESPITE
CHAPTER XIII - THE TWINS COMETH
CHAPTER XIV - THE SAIS OF ZULENA
CHAPTER XV - A ROGUE IN THE WIND
CHAPTER XVI - A THREAT ON THE HORIZON
CHAPTER XVII - BLISS IS FLEETING
CHAPTER XVIII - UNEXPECTED TRANSFORMATION
CHAPTER XIX - THE TIDE TURNS SWIFTLY
CHAPTER XX - WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS
Thank You For Reading!
Acknowledgments
About The Author
CHAPTER I
THE SUNKEN CITY
Ido not know how I arrived at this place. My eyes were unable to adjust to the darkness earlier, but now that the sun has risen, I am slowly able to acclimate to my surroundings.
I take a quick glance and it appears as if I am floating around some sort of sunken city: dozens of desolate buildings stand immediately before me, and more are interspersed further into the depth of my vision, along with the remains of trees and statues. Sea vegetation is abundant, and hundreds of colorful fish are roaming in and out of the structural remains.
I must have drifted above the Forbidden Lake while asleep and plunged in. A bit concerning, as no one is supposed to be here.
My name is Selvyn Falkov, and I am twenty-two years old. Lately, I have been having difficulties controlling my wings — sometimes it feels as if they have a mind of their own.
In our community, it has been ascertained that the color of your wings when born will determine the primary element that you have an affinity for. Every Zicarnum in our civilization is born with two of the same color wings at birth, restricting them to control over one element. However, an oddity at birth, I was born with one light green wing and one dark blue wing, enabling me to control both wind and water.
Due to my affinity for both of these elements, which is very uncommon among Zicarna, I sort of have the ability to breathe underwater. My grandmother Remy also developed an affinity for wind and water, and she taught me this skill when I was thirteen, before she passed away.
What I do is manipulate the water currents around me, forming an air bubble, while simultaneously extracting oxygen from the water molecules surrounding me. This allows me to breathe inside with a nearly endless supply of fresh air. It’s sort of like my own atmosphere. I must now be able to do this subconsciously because I don’t know how else I would be alive right now.
I run my hands through my medium-length red hair. I like to leave it long enough on the top so I can do this. I was always too ashamed of my wing colors to even be worried about the color of my hair, or my appearance in general, but recently I’ve come to accept and embrace both more than ever.
I tousle my hair a bit more. As I bring my hand back down to my side, I gaze at the freckles spotting it, just as they coat the rest of my body. Another thing that defines me as me — nothing more, and nothing less.
I take a once over look at the rest of my body to make sure everything is fine, but I don’t notice anything amiss, so I figure it’s now or never to figure out why I’m down here.
I start to move around the sunken city, known as Kryolen, but I still don’t know why my wings brought me here, or what I’m looking for. But something about this place is familiar. “Just like in my dreams,” I mumble to myself.
Judging by the low level of light illuminating Kryolen, I’m guessing that the sun has risen approximately thirty minutes ago. That gives me an estimated fifteen minutes left to explore and get out of here before more guards start circling the perimeter of the lake. That’s not too much time… I wish I had awoken earlier. Even so, I really wouldn’t have been able to see anything down here until recently, due to the minimal light the moon would provide at this depth.
We haven’t been taught much history about Kryolen, only that its citizens disobeyed a lot of laws and that they were obliterated. The incident only happened forty years ago, around the time my mother and father were being raised. My grandfather was a wood and earth wielder, and he died in the battle of Kryolen.
As I float in my bubble around the outskirts of the city, my attention is drawn to a building in shambles. Growing around what appears to be the only remaining structural pillar of the building are two fenestra trees in full bloom. These are such an interesting species of tree, as parts of the trunk and branches have holes in them. They must have adapted to allow insects or birds to nest in them. I suppose there is enough light down here during the day to keep them alive.
Rumor has it that there were only three wood wielders in the battle of Kryolen. I solemnly wonder if this is where my grandfather died. If so, I am glad that the trees remain to honor his memory. It is a fitting memorial.
I attempt to move further southeast, around the outskirts of the city, but I discover I am unable to move that way. There is a tingling sensation emanating from my wings, but I ignore it. I try to move northwest and find that direction does not work either. The tingling intensifies.
My wings twitch and start tugging me deeper into the city, into the inner ring. But I do not want to go there. I have no idea what the ruins of this city hold and part of me does not want to find out. The Council decreed that it must be sunken and remain out of reach for a reason.
A moment later, the tingling in my wings turns into an almost painful sensation. Suddenly, I have an inkling I am not alone down here. I concentrate on fortifying my bubble: making it impenetrable, or at least thicker.
Abruptly, it gets a bit darker. I feel something latch onto my bubble, trying to smother it, or rather, me. I turn my head and discover a large orange creature with two heads sliding its tentacles across the surface of my atmosphere. A shout comes out of my mouth before I remember that no one can hear me.
I turn around, fully facing it, and try to stare it down. It doesn’t budge. I extend my wings slightly,
attempting to show it I am a threat not to be tampered with. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to do.
It bares fangs on both of its heads and attempts to pierce the layers of water surrounding me. Thankfully, the creature’s fangs are repelled and my barrier stays intact. For now, anyway. Its fangs continue to scrape around the sides of my atmosphere, as it snarls wildly, wrath clearly visible in its wicked eyes.
Foolishly, I try to reason with it. “Creature, I am not food. Please leave. I do not wish to harm you.”
I’m not sure if it understands me, but the creature responds by sliding its tentacles further around me. A shiver creeps down my spine and forces me to break eye contact. I must think fast, but rationally. I cannot attack this creature with wind underwater. Perhaps I can bring us to the surface, as the additional guards won’t be there yet.
I try to levitate us upward, using my water affinity, but the creature is too heavy to lift. Its tentacles are starting to block out the light, and I am losing precious visibility every second.
I can’t bring us up together, but maybe I can separate us. Utilizing the water in between us, I try to push the creature further away. But as its body moves away from the city, so it seems that I move farther away as well. I start to get dizzy and realize I have not been focusing enough on maintaining the oxygen levels within my atmosphere.
I start to panic, but then my sister Safeyya’s voice pops into my head: “Stay calm. Breathe. Analyze. Execute.” I re-prioritize and withdraw enough oxygen molecules from the water and take a deep, refreshing breath. This will give me another minute or two to figure things out, but I still have the problem of my light being blocked out soon, not to mention the fact that this beast may be able to put enough pressure on my bubble to break it. In that instance, I’ll either drown or become creature food.
I count the tentacles and note that there are twelve.
I think back to my lectures… I remember my teacher saying something about a colossal creature with two heads and twelve tentacles that lives underwater. This must be a doirenk. I remember now. They are not the most intelligent of creatures; they are primarily driven by their hunger. Though my problem remains, how can I escape when it is too heavy to move?
I whisper to myself, “Come on, Selvyn. You’re brighter than this. You can get away if you just think for a second.” It clicks instantaneously: I can’t move the creature, but I can move myself. I glance over my shoulder and notice there is an opening in the tentacles just large enough for me to fit through. Perfect, unless the doirenk wraps itself further around me. Though there is a way for me to prevent that…
I stop withdrawing oxygen from the water and focus on expanding my atmosphere a few cubic centimeters at a time. I must not alert it to what my plan is.
The doirenk repeatedly attempts to gnaw its way toward me, but its tentacles have retracted slightly. I keep my body directed toward it, but I turn my head and focus my attention on the only remaining surface area devoid of tentacles. I’ve never done this before, but my intuition tells me it will work. It must. I will not die down here. I will fight for my life. I am bright, and I may not be as strong as my siblings, but I am not weak.
I’m gasping for breath again, but in just a moment I will have plenty of oxygen. At first, I can’t see anything happening, but I imagine another bubble forming, and slowly but surely, what appears to be still water appears behind me, out of view of the doirenk. I look back at it now and observe it getting more violent, which must mean desperate. I don’t have long. I turn my head back around and refocus on the still water. I draw oxygen into its center and push the currents away.
My wings flutter and I feel a renewed vigor course through my being. Strange, but this is not the time to question this new sensation. I concentrate on expanding the new bubble and find I can do so without issue. In just a few seconds it is already larger than the one I am currently trapped in, and I can sense it is teeming with oxygen. I draw it closer and it sticks to the surface of my current bubble. I turn my body around and tap the connecting point with the tip of my left wing, my wind wing. A space opens and I fold my wings in around myself and dive into the new bubble. I turn back and tap the connecting space with my right wing, my water wing, and the connection closes over.
I maintain the other bubble but weaken it. I watch as the doirenk’s fangs sluggishly sink into the surface. Its four eyes twirl around, frantically searching for its prey. I take advantage of it being distracted, propelling myself forward in my new atmosphere. Onward, further into Kryolen.
***
Once I am safely ensconced within the ruins of the inner city, I relax for a minute and take a few deep breaths. That was too close for comfort.
I draw in some more oxygen from the water outside my atmosphere and do a quick scan of my surroundings. It’s beyond brutal. To think that Zicarna would do this to each other over some disagreements. How many times in our history has this happened?
I understand that they may have broken some laws here, but to be decimated like this… it was too much. There are buildings here that are less than piles of rubble, crumbling and washing away due to erosion.
I feel more tugging in my wings as if they’re trying to pull me toward the city center. I shake them off. Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to go that way.
Instead, I float around a few buildings to the southwest and stumble upon what appears to be the remains of homes used by Council members. There’s a fallen sign over one of the doors that confirms my suspicion. It looks like it was broken in half, the edges a bit charred. The sign has a wreath of stars around the word “Council” in all capital letters. This must have been the leader’s residence. I probably shouldn’t trespass, but then again… I’ve already come this far, and there’s no one down here except me. Well, there’s also the doirenk, but I think I lost it.
I float over the rubble of what must have been a door and cross the threshold. The light from the surface doesn’t show too well on the inside, so I play around with the thickness of my atmosphere and the refractive properties of the surrounding water until I can see a few meters ahead of me. I have found that this is easy to do by using both of my affinities to alter the nitrogen levels in the air around me, and the salt concentration of the water surrounding my bubble.
At first glance, nothing on the main level seems out of the ordinary. Maybe this trip was all for naught. I should’ve just gone home as soon as I woke up.
I float up to the second floor and peak around. Everything is as normal as my own house; one of the bedrooms is even decorated similarly to mine. Well, if my furniture floated, and had eroded over the span of several decades.
I wonder who resided here. I look around and find a photo. I can’t see it too clearly, even after altering the water’s properties, so I put a new bubble around it and use the same trick as earlier to pull it toward me. It’s a photograph of a strapping young man, appearing to be around twenty or twenty-one, with dark green wings. I wonder if he is buried here in this city. I wonder if he took his last breath here, what his last thoughts must have been. A wood wielder; perhaps he would have gotten along with my grandfather. I can’t help but tear up at the thought.
Wanting to think of just about anything else right now, I wander into another room. There’s the same Council sign with the star wreath embedded on a wall in here. This must have been the city leader’s bedroom.
I find a few more photographs suspended here. It’s as if time froze the moment the city sunk. I repeat the same procedure for these photographs, and I observe them one at a time. Between the four photographs, it appears to tell the story of this family as they aged.
A young couple, a man with light green wings, and a woman with dark brown wings. The next shows the couple a few years older, each with secondary wings the same color as their primary set. The man is standing next to a young girl with lavender wings. The third picture shows the couple, older still, with the girl appearing to be in her teenage years. This one also has a
young boy with dark green wings. It must be the same boy from the other room. The last is of the couple holding hands, the young girl now a grown woman, standing at her father’s side. She looks like she has a secondary set of wings now, although the color is difficult to discern. She is holding an infant in her arms, one with light blue wings. The young man with the wood affinity from earlier is nowhere to be found in this photograph.
Does this mean that the family disowned him? Was he simply not present at the time this photograph was taken? Or maybe he decided to leave and join another city of Zicarna. Though the latter option doesn’t happen all that often… we as a people aren’t generally welcoming to newcomers. Our cities are pushed to the limits as is.
Still, I want to know more about this man. Something about him not being in the other photograph piques my curiosity.
I float back into the other room and remove the photograph of the wood wielder from its frame. I tuck it into a pocket on my vest and leave his room. I float back downstairs and take one more look around. I feel like there should be more here. After all, this is the Council leader’s residence. The Council leaders in my city try to live modestly, but even they each have their own secrets.
Instead of leaving through the hole I came in through, I float toward what must have been the back of the house and look at the walls and the ground more closely. There are remnants of a rug floating around in here, which isn’t all that suspicious until I notice something shiny on the floor about seven meters to my right. I creep toward it and upon closer inspection it seems to be a metal handle… a trap door. The rug must have been covering it before Kryolen was submerged. Why would the Council leader have a hidden door leading below his house?
I try to manipulate the currents to lift the handle. It moves briefly, but nothing else happens. I try to push the water underneath the door, but there must be too much pressure from above.
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