by T. C. Edge
"Who?" I ask.
"Master Elian," he says.
As it turns out, the following trial is one that tests fire control. Not creation - no, fire creation is, as I've been told, a very rare gift - but the actual control of fire already burning.
As I sit in the shade, watching the other candidates display their proficiency in the task, I realise that I'm perfectly happy to be sitting this one out. I can't help but let my thoughts turn to my explosive reaction during the purification, sending those flames rushing so quickly into the crowd. I had no control there. None. I just reacted in rage and killed people as a result.
Now, I watch as two of those upon the stage that day display their talents at harnessing the flame. Both Elian and Hestia were there, along with two others, rushing in to surround me, trying to douse the raging torrent of fire as it poured from my pyre. I find it odd, though my memory is hazy, that they found it hard to quell the flames as they erupted out of me. Perhaps, even then, my body was generating its own flame too, adding it to the fire raging around me. Hidden within the bonfire, no one would have seen it. Now, all the candidates are aware of the rare gift I possess.
Under orders from Perses to stay where I am, I merely sit and watch for the next few hours, Marlow coming to join my side and explaining, as best he can, the various tasks being undertaken.
After showing their control of the flame, the candidates begin demonstrating their 'fire-impermeability'. I'm not sure if that's a term Marlow thinks up himself, or an official one in general use. Either way, I don't know what he means until he offers further explanation.
Essentially, it's the degree to which a Fire-Blood can create a shield around their body by increasing their body temperature and wreathing themselves in flame. I remember Jude coming up with the term 'fire force field' when we were journeying to Olympus. It seems he was onto something there, the candidates evidently capable of rebuffing or slowing certain attacks to a limited degree.
The ability to create fire yourself, of course, comes in very handy in that regard. Elian, therefore, can quickly light himself up, fire spreading around his body, making him extremely difficult to get near to. With that sort of temperature pulsing out of him, few would be able to approach, unless they were another Fire-Blood or wearing specially designed protecting clothing.
The others can also manage this, though to a lesser degree. For a start, they need to have access to a lit fire already in order to control it and spread it around their bodies. To combat this, Marlow tells me that Fire-Bloods, like Hestia, who operate within the military, have special 'fire-lighters' on their uniforms. These are little glove-like contraptions that allow them to click a button on their palm, immediately igniting a flame for them to then harness. It is a quick and easy way to access fire without having the ability to create it.
I imagine that someone like Elian would think this impure, nothing but a cheat.
A couple of other tasks take place, each one laying on the guilt factor as I sit there, nothing but a spectator. Any time the candidates get to take a break, gathering over by the buffet tables to refuel, I get filthy, almost envious stares. To think that someone like me might be getting preferential treatment. If anyone else had collapsed during the temperature test, they'd have been disqualified immediately for poor control and over-exertion.
Yet here I am, sitting, relaxing, watching. I'm even treated to a waiter service by Marlow as he insists I eat to regather my energy, heading off to fill a plate whilst the others get back to work. Herald Perses, meanwhile, along with the other assessors, continues to watch and discuss the performances of the candidates, determining just who will make it through the day.
And, yes, it's a very long day. By the time the tests are nearing completion, the skies are beginning to darken just a touch, the warm summer sun beginning to cool. Before the day closes, however, a final test awaits, this one a personal, one-to-one trial with the Overseer.
I watch as the candidates move to one side of the tent, one at a time, and merely stand ahead of the man, neither seeming to speak. This happens with each of them in turn, before, to my surprise, the Overseer lifts his eyes to mine, and begins making his way toward me.
I sit up straighter, suddenly back under his judgement. He approaches with a kindly smile, the rest of my fellow Fire-Bloods watching on, quite the opposite in their seemingly co-ordinated expressions.
"Ignore them, Amber," the Overseer says as he nears. "They're just jealous. How are you feeling, child?"
"Fine, I guess," I say. "Physically, at least."
"Good. Don't feel guilty for sitting out most of the day. It was a decision Herald Perses and I came to. I never thought I'd fail you today, even before you passed out. It was an unfortunate incident, but a necessary one."
"Necessary? Why?"
"Because it gave us another taste of your true potential, child. These hiccups occur when you're only just starting out. Most walk before they can run, and crawl before they can walk. You have started out at a sprint, Amber, and yet you're still standing. That is admirable. You will be far better for your experience today."
"I do wish I could have taken part more, though," I say, voice dull. "I feel fine now. I could have tried..."
"No," the Overseer says. "That would have been counter-productive. Do you doubt Herald Perses's and my decision?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Nor should you. We made a judgement call that will benefit you in the long run. And he tells me that Master Elian will offer you personal guidance. I think that's a wonderful idea. I've informed him that you'll begin your practice early tomorrow morning. There shall be no official tests, so that will give you ample time to practice."
I gulp at the thought, and glance up at Elian.
"Has he been informed yet?" I ask.
"He has. He's more than happy to help."
"Right. Helping the competition. I'm sure he's just thrilled about that."
"He's a Son of the Prime, Amber. And I am the Prime's spokesperson here. He is honoured to conduct the Prime's will, as all good Children are."
I raise my eyes, thinking, we'll see about that.
"Now," the Overseer goes on. "I have one final test to conduct on you, if you're feeling up to it?"
"Um...sure," I say, suddenly feeling as though I'm back on the spot. "What is it?"
"Well, a test of wills, I suppose," he tells me. "You may have already been informed by High Worthy Marlow here that Fire-Bloods have particularly strong defences against mental intrusion. When properly focused and in control of their powers, they can create shields through which most telepaths cannot penetrate. Do you wish to test yourself against me now, child?"
I consider the question, but know I can't exactly refuse. The glint in the Overseer's eyes suggests that even asking the question is a test in itself. Everything, it seems, is being assessed and evaluated. He could very well be inside my head now, reading my thoughts, observing just how my personal decision making process works.
"Of course," I say after a moment of consideration. "Though...won't it be dangerous?"
"Perhaps," says the Overseer. He looks to Marlow, quite close to my side. "Step back, High Worthy. It's for your own safety."
"And yours?" I ask the Overseer, as Marlow makes his retreat, stepping away several dozen feet and moving behind a pillar.
The colourfully robed man merely smiles. "Well, you'd best make sure you don't explode like you did earlier, child. I'm not sure the death of the Overseer would be counted in your favour."
"It's your funeral," I say.
"And it will be yours as well."
The suggestion is clear - learn, and learn fast.
I take a steadying breath and stand up straight, the much taller man looming before me. He takes position about five or six feet away, his eyes fixing to mine, expression placid. If I heat up too quickly, he might well be roasted alive. Yet somehow, I think there's something more at play here. I'm certain that Herald Perses, lingering around not
too far away, would be quick enough to sweep in and haul the Overseer to safety, should the need arise.
"OK, Amber," the man says. "I'm going to enter your mind, and access some painful memories. You will see them play out before you, almost as if they're happening once more. I warn you, child, you will not enjoy this. If you wish to stop me, you must repel my intrusions. Are you ready?"
I nod, fixing my gaze, heart beating wildly. I know that, if I ask him just how I'm supposed to repel him, I'll get a vague answer. No, once again, I'm being put on the spot and asked to react instinctively. Never in my life have I been so tested.
Never in my life have I felt so alive.
Staring at one another, I let my focus centre on the Overseer alone, forgetting all else around us. It takes only a moment for the world to blur and change, for a strange darkness to overcome me. For a second, I'm aware of it all. Aware of the sudden change as the light fails, and the world around me warps and blurs.
Then, before I know it, my mind has fallen away into the past. And a memory, as clear as if it were happening at that very moment, has risen to the surface.
32
I'm in my cabin back home.
My mother is there, and my father too. Lilly is in her room; she's been told to stay there. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, my parents on one side, and my grandmother on the other.
They're talking about me.
About my grandmother's influence, the 'lies' she tells, the way she's ruining my life. Father is taking the lead, his relationship with his mother already so strained. Mother sits quietly, meekly, her eyes pained as she watches her family break down.
I'm just thirteen, and already I'm completely on my grandmother's side. I trust her, believe her, feel a closeness to her that I don't my parents. I don't yet know if she's entirely right about what she tells me about the Children of the Prime, about the truth of their past. But that doesn't matter. I know that, somehow, there's something different about me, about the way I think. I want her to be right, even if she isn't.
I want to rebel against the life I lead.
The discussion becomes an argument. Words are spoken both ways, those intended to hurt. I sit, silent, watching my father and grandmother go to war. Mother adds her voice occasionally, telling Alberta how she's destroying my future, robbing me of my chance to, one day, be found worthy.
I try to speak, to tell them that I don't want that. That I never did and never will. Father tells me to be quiet, orders me to go to my room. I sit tight for a moment, defiant. His eyes flame and bore into me, but only when grandmother nods for me to leave do I listen.
I move out of the kitchen, opening the door to find Lilly there in the corridor, tears falling down her cheeks. She's just ten, too fragile to handle the conflict as she listens to her parents and grandmother, all of whom she loves dearly, be ripped apart by a conflict in ideology. Her eyes, filled with tears, blink hurriedly as I see her. I feel my heart crack at the sight, and hurry up to comfort her.
I squeeze her tight in my arms, and tell her everything is going to be all right. She asks if I'm going to be leaving to live with grandma from now on. I tell her no. I'm not going anywhere.
"I'll never leave you, Lillypad," I whisper, stroking her hair, holding her close. "I'll always be there for you, no matter what."
She pulls back and looks up at me, those big, beautiful eyes of hers shining gold. I wipe the tears from her cheeks, and take her back to her room. We shut the door, locking out the voices shouting from the kitchen. On her bed is a carved figure of the Prime. I stare at it, conflicted, and tell her, "let's pray."
I know it's her favourite thing, even at the age of ten. Her devotion to the Prime, and all of his Children, has been profound since she could walk and talk. My parents drilled it into her, as they once did me. Ever since my mind wavered under my grandmother's influence, they determined to double down on their efforts, make Lilly the best devotee she could be.
So we kneel there by her bed, and we pray to the Prime together. I feel the conflict as I say the words I no longer believe, and perhaps never did, but see the look of peace that spreads across my sister's face. I know, at that moment, that there's something wrong with me. I know that I'll never be happy living here, living this life.
I know that, one day, I'll do something drastic to change it.
My mind jumps forwards, a memory so fresh, so recent, summoned.
I stand, watching Lilly pray by her bed. She kneels there in the very same place we did together four years before. The last time I prayed with her. The last time I spoke words of devotion to the Prime.
Before her is her figure of the Prime, carved without detail on the face, head bowed and hidden behind a cloak. Other statues and wooden figures litter the room, set in any spare place she can find. Her habit for carving them has grown over the years. Now, she's become proficient and skilled.
She acts with such respect, such reverence, the perfect example of a devotee. I watch as she turns and finds me there, looking at her through the window. I try to hide, but she catches me. And standing either side of the window, either side of the wall...either side of the world, we talk.
In her words are a secret goodbye. Somehow, I know it. I feel their weight, their finality. Over the years, she's grown more serious, less sweet as she once was. But standing there, she becomes that little girl again. The girl I knew I'd do anything to protect, even from herself.
Mother calls her for dinner, and she leaves me outside. I don't join them. I can't. The years have turned my life here sour. Only with Jude and grandma do I get respite from it all. Only with them can I truly be myself.
I retreat to the lake to sleep, and wake to my worst nightmare. I find my parents in the kitchen, half proud, half broken. I argue with father and they discover what I am. And in that moment, the own prophesy I made for myself comes true.
I march out of that house with no thought of when I'll return.
I march off, set to do something drastic that will change my life forever...
A pain spreads through me. A mental anguish, an emotional turmoil.
I feel myself boxed in, as if trying to escape a nightmare. I fight against it, at the memories, the dreams, that accost me. I feel something boil within, cracks opening in the darkness. Shards of light enter, and through the fissures, I see the face of the Overseer.
He appears as if beyond the curtain, beyond some veil I cannot get through. I battle to draw them wide, to escape him and his mental intrusions. I feel something stir inside me, something gather. For a brief moment, I press harder, my mind waking, becoming fully aware.
He's in my head, I think. He's doing this. These memories...they're all him.
I fight harder, my instincts taking over. Gradually, I battle beyond his control, as if aware of what to do. I summon the fire, and imagine it as a shield. I forge a barrier to my mind that he cannot penetrate.
Suddenly, I sense myself casting off his shackles. The world comes into view once more, the Overseer there before me. He stands, just as he did when he entered my mind, a few short feet away. I haul a breath into my lungs and look at my hands, at the subtle glow within. I feel the warmth spreading, though contained. It seems to hum around me, though doesn't spread far.
Controlled, managed. I see the Overseer slowly nod.
"Stay in control, Amber," he says. "It isn't over yet. Again. We go again."
Unprepared, my heart thrashing fast, I feel him surge back into my head. I try to fight him off, but am unable to do so. The darkness draws in once more, and into the pain of my past I fall...
Jude.
Oh, Jude.
The boy all the girls adore, and all the parents warn to stay away from. The boy who strolls through town, draped in rugged hunting attire, easy smile on his face. The boy who could send any girl trembling at the knees, but chooses to spend his time with me.
Jude, the boy who I've loved forever, even if I so rarely admit it.
I'm fifteen years old, two
years younger than he is. These woods we're in are his, really. He knows them intimately, never seeming happier than when he's here. Other than, for some reason, than when he's with me.
We adventure together often, though do so in secret. I know my parents are aware of him and his reputation. The boy with the lopsided smile, easy with a quip. The boy who never takes anything too seriously, who makes a hobby out of breaking girls hearts.
Or so the rumours go.
I've known him for a while, and that's never been the case. The reputation he has isn't the truth at all. In reality, he's the sweetest person I've ever known.
I hope my parents will accept him.
I haven't told Jude how I feel, partly because I'm not sure myself. Despite everything that's gone down with my parents, and the difficulties we've had over the last few years, I still need their approval if I'm going to start seeing him properly. I'm not a good devotee, but I can still be a faithful daughter. I don't blame my parents for what they believe, for how they feel. I know it can't be easy having a daughter like me. Honestly, I feel sorry for them more than anything. I wish, most days, that I could just change and live the simple life like everyone else.
I don't think Jude knows how significant this day is to me. I haven't told him anything, really. I think he feels strongly for me, cares for me. Why else would he want to hang out as much as we do? Why else would he tease me so often, be so playful yet kind at the same time?
My cabin lies ahead, through the woods, on the edge of the lake. I feel the nerves bubble as we grow nearer, as I see my father on the small pier that extends over the water, newfangled fishing device in hand. Every season, he upgrades to something more efficient. Every season, he catches more fish than ever before.
