by T. C. Edge
"Oh yeah, we all share that," he smirks. "But, on that note, keep an eye on Richter as well. If Hestia's got an unlikely chance, he's got none at all. The guy's punching well above his weight. And he's very close to his brother, so just watch out."
"Ah, so that was his brother. I thought so."
"Yep, they're basically twins, only separated by a year or so. He'll be happy to be eliminated if it means taking you out of the contest too."
"Um, thanks for the tip. You know, it would be better to just let him do his thing than warn me. Seeing as I'm your only competition. Apparently."
"No sport in that," Elian says, taking a sip of wine. "I'll beat you fair and square. No need for me to play dirty."
"Arrogance and honour, all dressed up in one. That's sorta impressive."
"I do try my best."
He smiles, and I find myself, against my better judgement, smiling back. We almost seem to be getting along. Or is this just a part of his game?
I shake the thought, knowing my tendency to overthink things. It won't suit me well to do so here and without good cause. Elian, for what it's worth, appears to be honest about things. I guess I appreciate that, on some level. There doesn't seem to be any deceit in him at all.
I take another swig of my drink, before yawning wide as I place my cup back down. Elian regards me closely, probably wondering how I can be so tired when I spent half the day chilling out in the shade as the others went to work. Then again, almost melting your insides probably does take it out of you somewhat.
"You oughta get some sleep," the young Fire-Blood says. "You probably don't know this yet, but sufficient rest is very important for people like us. Our bodies burn huge amounts of energy when using our powers, so it's important to refuel often and get enough rest."
I nod, taking his advice on board.
"In time, you'll become accustomed to controlling your energy output effectively. That comes with practice and experience. When you do, you'll be able to utilise your energy sources more efficiently. You've already seen what happens when you run out of fuel and overexert yourself."
"You black out," I say.
"Exactly. It's common for young Fire-Bloods to do so when they're in training. They learn when they're young to properly control their energy output, and it becomes second nature. I guess...well, it's harder for you, seeing as you've only just discovered what you are. So first of all, always make sure you get sufficient rest. That's tip number one. Tomorrow, I'll try to help you learn to conserve energy better, and..."
He stops, trailing off, and a frown works up onto his face. I find that I've leaned in a little as he speaks, somehow drawn to his passion for his powers and his kind. I wonder if he teaches others in his spare time. Whether part of his duty here is to aid other young Fire-Bloods in understanding and developing their inner divinity. Maybe that's why the Overseer and Herald Perses decided to ask him to help train me. Maybe he's used to it, and the person best placed to offer me guidance.
But still, he cuts himself off and then sits back a little. He takes a final sip of his drink and then stands.
"Well, we'll get to that," he says. "I'll be around tomorrow sometime. Get some rest, Amber. And...don't wait up." He winks, wrapping himself back up in that arrogant facade, before turning and marching off.
I watch him until he's left the room, leaving me alone. Well, not completely alone. The single remaining Worthy still stands nearby, probably waiting for me to leave so he can clear up. I look up to him with a smile.
"He's not so bad really, is he?" I say. "Once you scratch beneath the surface."
The young man bows his head by way of answer, then begins to approach.
"Would you like anything further, my Lady?" he asks.
I shake my head casually, and finish off my cup of wine.
"No thank you," I say. "That'll be all for now."
The man picks up my cup and the one left behind by Elian, grabs the jug of wine, and slips back away towards the kitchens. The interaction, I realise, feels strangely natural. Is this becoming the new me, I wonder. Am I already accepting the idea of being waited on by my former brethren of the Fringe?
I mull on the idea as I return to my bed in the chambers below the great hall, slipping as quietly as I can towards the rear and trying not to catch eyes with any of the remaining candidates. I notice that Elian isn't there, nor Hestia. I'm fairly certain that Pentecost is also absent, leaving me alone with...
I feel a sharp breath enter my lungs as I turn around, facing the shadow looming behind me.
Richter stands there, tall and menacing, his skin glowing faintly in the gloom.
A throb of anxiety works quickly through my body, my eyes quickly lifting to the doorway behind, as if hoping to see Krun still trailing me. He isn't. It seems his watch over me doesn't extend to the temple here.
For a moment, I just stand and stare at the man, his figure unmoving in the dim light. Then, I see his lips crack open, and a raspy voice slip out.
"Sweet dreams, Fringe rat," he whispers.
And then he turns and moves away, disappearing into the shadows of his own personal alcove.
Despite Elian's advice, I find that I don't sleep well that night.
35
The following day, I find myself irritable, waking early after a woeful lack of sleep, and escaping the subterranean dorm-chambers as quickly as possible. I pass by Richter's little alcove, and see him apparently sleeping peacefully. The urge strikes to march right up to him and throttle him where he lies for setting me on edge like he did.
I refuse the desire, however, and return to the dining hall for breakfast. Though Elian's advice to get plenty of rest was disrupted by that gothic-looking creep, I can at least try to refuel with a hearty morning feed.
I try, but my appetite isn't really up to it. I end up leaving the temple both tired, full despite hardly eating anything, and entirely unsure of what the hell I'm doing here. So far, I've hardly had time to think. All I've done is follow the orders I've been given and gotten my head down as much as possible. Now, with a little time to myself, I'm wondering just why I've so quickly committed to this path.
Because of Lilly and Jude, moron, I think, reprimanding myself. That's all it is.
Somehow, my own inner voice sounds sarcastic that morning. Deep down, I know that this is about more than that. This is about me as well. It's about my frustration, my need to be more than I am. My desire to see just how far I can take my powers, and where, once I do, they'll end up taking me.
It's odd, and mildly concerning, that that thought has me feeling a little more relaxed. My mind fills with the endless wilds, the vast lands that lie beyond. My heart's true desire, the Overseer told me. A yearning to explore and escape the little world I've grown up in. Already, being here in Olympus, that's beginning to happen.
And, despite all the troubles I'm facing, a part of me is happy for that.
The day is a glorious one, the air still in the early morning, the sun bright and unencumbered by clouds. For about an hour or so, I find myself wandering about the nearby streets, watching the world begin to wake. Having already covered much of the area with Marlow, I keep to the same paths and try not to wander off the beaten track too much.
As I go, I sense eyes on me, some of the local residents taking an interest as I pass. A few words are muttered, a few sideways glances given. It's something I'm quickly growing used to and learning to ignore. Frankly, spending my time here in the company of Hestia and Richter has made me immune to anything less than a death-stare.
I also notice the presence of soldiers here and there, some of them on patrol, others set in guard-towers high above the city streets. They eye me with suspicion, though don't interrupt me as I go on my way. Some, I know, will be gifted with staggering eyesight, capable of seeing all from on high, spotting any would-be troublemakers - if any actual exist here - from their lofty perches above.
I'm probably about an hour into my wanderings when I feel the e
arth shake beneath my feet, and spin around to find Krun lumbering towards me from down a side-alley. He hauls a great breath into his lungs as he spots me, and comes to a swift stop.
"Ah, there you are," he says, breathing heavily. "What were you doing leaving the temple so early?"
He seems somewhat agitated, though relieved to have found me. I suspect Herald Perses wouldn't be happy to hear that Krun has failed in his duty to watch - and watch over - me.
"Couldn't sleep," I say. "I needed to clear my head."
"You know you're not meant to leave before 8AM. You were told this at the start."
"Yeah. I wanted to slip out before you caught up with me. I can't relax if I've got you as a shadow all the time."
"It's for your safety, Lady Amber."
Lady Amber. Wow, so odd to hear him be almost respectful to me.
"And what's going to happen in broad daylight? If you want to make sure I'm safe, you should probably watch over me at night. I don't think it's the general public around here I need to worry about."
The giant frowns. "Has someone threatened you?" he asks, voice booming from his barrel chest.
I sigh and shake my head. "No, not really. Don't worry about it, Krun, you're doing a fine job. I'll be OK I'm sure."
He continues to regard me closely, evidently logging the conversation to be reported back to Perses. It's not really what I want, to cause any problems. Really, all I'm going on is Elian's warning and the general menace that both Hestia and Richter display towards me. Seeing as Herald Perses was in attendance yesterday, and ever watchful of all of the candidates, I'm certain he witnessed the very same thing, and is fully aware of it.
"Well, do inform me if anything happens," Krun goes on. Like Marlow, he's now coming across differently to me. I suppose, as Elian said, he's under orders to treat me like this now, and isn't about to subvert them. I still dislike the man for how he treated me at first, and more so Jude, but he's certainly less repugnant to me than he was at first.
And, well, so is this place, and it's people. I don't know if it's just around here, in this small section of the city with its large squares and temples, cobblestone streets and beautiful statues, but I'm actually starting to warm to it. Despite the continued glances and mutterings, I've rather enjoyed my languid stroll this morning. The grandeur is just so inspiring. The architecture is beautiful. The sights, smells, and sounds are so very different to what I've known my entire life.
Yes, I love the woods and lakes and beautiful mountain trails, but I also can't deny my fascination with this city. There's something truly magical about it, something I can't quite put my finger on. And despite my early reservations, I'm starting to grow fascinated by the people too, by the lives they lead, by the powers they possess.
I'm becoming one of them, comes a worrying thought. How has that happened so quickly? How has my moral compass been so swiftly corrupted and altered?
As Krun begins escorting me back towards the temple, I wonder if this is the Overseer's doing. Has he manipulated my thinking somehow? Is this me or him? How would I even know either way?
It's a troubling thought, but one that's almost liberating at the same time. Why not just let him influence me, if that's actually what he's doing. Wouldn't it be nice to be free of my concerns and mental burdens. Wouldn't it be nice to learn to love this place and these people, to fit in here among them. I never belonged living on the Fringe. Perhaps here in Olympus, I can?
Ignorance is bliss, isn't it? Why should I worry so much about something I can't control. If this is the Overseer's doing, if he's gently manipulating me into becoming one of the Children of the Prime, then is there anything I can do about it? Wouldn't it be easier to just accept the path I'm on, and stop questioning every fork in the road, deliberating over which route to take.
Or maybe, just maybe, I should take ownership of what I really want. Trust the Overseer, trust that he isn't in my head, that I can block him out if I wish. Trust that, really, I yearn for this and always have. And that, maybe, I'm not the idealistic girl I always thought I was. That I am more selfish, more cold-hearted, than I think.
My thoughts take a dark turn as I see the temple approaching down the street, as I look at the large, open square and the magnificent building in its centre. Glowing faintly red like fire, I feel a warming energy glow within. I drink in the city around me, nodding to myself, letting its energy imbue every fibre within.
And there, stepping from the doors, I see Richter. Dressed in his robes, his jet black hair lank down his neck, I see him turn his eyes upon me and narrow menacingly. A breath fills my lungs, though this one isn't a reaction of fear.
No, I look at him and feel conflict. I feel anger.
I look at him and feel my body burn.
I march forward suddenly, my weariness cast off, my robes starting to glimmer and shine red. Richter stands his ground, eyes narrowing. I notice his own robes alter their colour, his hands filling with an inner fire.
"Lady Amber," I hear Krun boom behind me, ever keeping step some way back. "What are you doing..."
I ignore the brute and speed my step. Slipping into a controlled rage, I feel sparks of fire beginning to fizz around me, my legs working into a run. My head fills with violence, unexpected, surging from a long-dormant part of me.
Richter remains rooted to the spot, standing at the bottom of the steps outside the temple. A few Worthies linger at the entrance, young women of the Fringe there to tend the fires. I see them take a few hasty steps back, moving away into cover, fear cast upon their eyes.
I stay in control as I march onwards, ever nearing my prey. I've had enough of being threatened and looked down upon. I've had enough of being treated like an outsider.
No, I am here on merit. I am here because I was born to be.
And I won't submit to anyone.
"What's this?" I hear Richter say, that throaty voice of his speeding across the open space between us. "You got a problem, Fringe rat."
His words fuel me. A sudden throb of fire erupts from my limbs. In that moment, Richter's eyes open wider for a split second, before narrowing. He takes a half step back towards the steps, bracing himself for something.
"Call me Fringe rat one more time," I growl, flowing faster, burning brighter. I sense Krun holding back now, unable to penetrate the wall of heat around me. Beneath my feet, faint scorch marks accompany my step, painting my path towards my enemy.
The words don't drop immediately from Richter's mouth. He hesitates, considering. And then, he makes a terrible mistake.
"Fringe rat," he says.
I'm on him in a flash, somehow pressed on at an unexpected speed. I feel as if I'm flowing on the wind, the fire boosting me, sending me towards him before he's ready. I ball my fist and, thinking briefly of my escape with Jude from the town of Black Ridge, send it swinging in the man's direction.
It thuds right into his jaw, crunching hard. I feel no pain at the impact, my fist cushioned by flame, protected by the blaze. His head rocks to the side, a second pulse of flame spreading from me as I connect. I send another punch in his direction, finding some source of ferocity inside me, some need to inflict pain on this man, to see him suffer and tremble before me.
My mind falls into a blur of rage, my vision filling with red. I feel a familiar loss of control looming, but this time I don't care. In those moments, I lose myself to the inferno within. In those moments, I think of nothing but the fire.
Suddenly, from nowhere, I feel a heavy weight press into my body. Something wraps me up, pulling me back and off to one side. I feel something cold, so very cold, coil around me, dousing my flame. I try to cast it off, but am powerless to do so.
The fire around me goes out like a candle snuffed in the wind. My body tumbles to the floor, back pressed down, arms held to my sides. The red shroud upon my vision clears, like a fog blown off by a stiff breeze.
And there, on top of me, I see the face of Elian.
His cloak is darkened, almost bla
ck, the tanned colour of his skin replaced by a strange blue-white hue. His eyes, golden like mine, stare at me, their colour also doused and stifled. I look at his hair, hanging loose around his head, and see a covering of what looks like frost, glistening and quickly melting under the sun.
"Control yourself, Amber," his voice calls out, a fog of cold upon his breath. His eyes bore into me. "What the hell are you doing!"
I look to the sides, at his hands, as they lock my own arms to the floor. His veins appear icy, his body temperature lowered to counteract my own. I watch as the red fire in my blood quickly recedes, my robes returning to normal, my anger quickly withdrawn.
A quaking shakes the ground, and from the side, Krun comes charging in. He doesn't stop at us, but passes right by. I turn my eyes to follow him, and see him pressing right on towards the shape of a body on the floor.
Richter.
My chest lurches as I try to get up. Elian holds me down, clasping my wrists, straddling me and pinning me with his weight.
"I'm fine, Elian!" I say, breathless, looking over to Richter. "I'm fine, let me up!"
Slowly, he takes a long steady breath, shutting his eyes. I notice his skin begin to change colour, his tan returning, taking the cold with it. He stares at me for a long second, and then suddenly springs to his feet.
He rushes over to join Krun at Richter's side, the giant crouching low over the fallen man. I jump up too, feeling a little unsteady, and rush to join them. I let out a sharp breath of relief as I look down and see Richter there, eyes flickering open, nothing but a patch of bruising upon his jaw.
He seems to be coming back around having been knocked briefly unconscious, a nasty looking bump to his head and slight cut on his lip. And around him where he lies, the stone is marked black, burned by the flame that spread from me.
His eyes blink hurriedly a few times as Elian kneels before him.
"Are you all right?" he asks. "Richter, can you hear me?"
