by T. C. Edge
Away from Elian.
I know it's he who has brought this on, his stinging words from the previous day still burning in my mind. He had, against all the odds, become someone I was beginning to rely on, even like in his nicer moments. Now, he's taken that fledgling bond away, snatched it from me and left me reeling.
I could seek out Marlow, find him waiting attentively in his own quarters, just hoping to be summoned. Yet his friendship, his companionship, isn't real, but ordered. He doesn't see me as a person, but a goddess, someone divine and demanding of his faith and service. Yes, his presence has become comforting for me here - hell, even Krun's looming shadow has forged itself into something I don't hate - but it's contrived, fake, just another piece of the grand tapestry, the puzzle here in Olympus.
Only Elian, in those fleeting moments, showed himself to be something else. Someone who might see me as an equal one day; not only as a competitor, but as a person. I could see it, the pain inside, written upon his eyes. There's something deeper in him, something more profound, a side I've only scratched the surface of.
Now, I'll see only the side that calls me Fringe girl. He will not weaken to me again.
I wander down a long corridor, the time unknown. It feels like the dead of night given how quiet this place is. Outside, perhaps, the sun is still shining, the day yet to transition to the dark hues of night. Down here, you'd never know either way.
I find a chamber, one of many I've discovered today, opening out through an archway. It's not large, but warm, a fire burning in a hearth within. I look around, but find myself alone. There's no one tending it. No Worthy here to keep the fire lit.
I move inside, the room holding a strange energy about it. There's something almost mystical in the air, something I can't put my finger on. I wander in, looking at the carvings on the walls. They're simple, the chamber more basic. It looks slightly out of place among the other magnificent rooms I've seen, as though not fully developed as they are.
I continue to explore for a few moments, before a noise has me turning, looking to the doorway. Through it, I see a pair walk, one a man in red-blue robes, the other a young girl with vibrant blonde hair and gold-blue eyes. They step in, in light conversation, the man looming tall above the girl. She looks in her early teens, perhaps only Lilly's age, draped in a light crimson robe that looks similar to mine, though without the shimmering effect.
I find myself suddenly awkward as they enter, as if I'm trespassing in some sacred place I shouldn't. "Sorry. I was just..."
They continue to speak lightly, the tall man in the robes addressing the young girl in a guiding, paternal tone. They completely ignore me as they wander in, the man not lifting his head to meet my gaze, his eyes remaining low as they fix on the girl by his side.
"I guess I'll be going then," I say, more loudly this time, my words echoing briefly around the smallish chamber.
They must have heard me this time.
No, nothing. No reaction at all. They just continue towards me, working through the gloom in the direction of the flickering firelight. I shake my head at the rudeness of it all, though am quite used to it by now around here.
With a sigh, I begin heading back for the doorway, ready to continue my aimless wanderings.
I stop, passing near to the man. Something about him catches my eye, his face suddenly illuminated by the firelight.
He turns, looking up, as he reaches the hearth, the young girl, whom I assume is a Fire-Blood in training, standing before him.
I gasp softly as I see the man's face, his features, his keen eyes and narrow jaw, pointed chin and flowing hair.
I'm looking into the face of the Overseer.
He stands there, face so distinctive to my eyes, yet somehow...different too. Though the light is weak here in this chamber, I sense a man of younger years. The deep wrinkles that often crack upon his skin, particularly when smiling, are absent. The colour of his hair appears more vibrant, more youthful. There's a little more robustness to his posture, his back a little straighter. In fact, he even looks a little taller.
I stare, confused, as I look at this younger depiction of the man. Is it just my mind playing tricks?
"Master Overseer," I say, speaking directly to him. I wait for him to look at me, but he doesn't. "Master Overseer, I wanted to speak to you about the next trial. I was just wondering if you knew when it will start, and what it will be..."
He speaks, his voice breaking its silence, but not to me. To the young girl before him.
"Now, my child," he says softly, moving around the hearth, looking into the flame and back into the girl's eyes . "You have come a long way in a short space of time. But there's more for you to give, so long as you control your gifts, fully unleash your powers. Perhaps, one day, if you stay on this path, you might even join the Chosen..."
The girl's eyes light up with his words. I look into her face and see a strange familiarity, a reflection of myself. This might have been me, growing up in the city. I'd have been scouted early and trained to take full control of my gifts. I'd have, perhaps, been happy here.
"Excuse me, Master Overseer," I go on, increasingly loudly. "Did you hear me?"
Again, no answer. I feel an anger spreading. Is this some sort of test?
The Overseer continues to speak, but again addresses the girl. She smiles at him, face lit by purpose, his words an irresistible potion.
Enough's enough.
I march right for him, stepping quickly, and reach out to grab his arm, force his attention on me. I gasp once more, lungs spilling air, as my hand goes right through him, phasing through his skin, flesh, bone, and appearing on the other side as if passing right through air.
I stumble back in shock and fright, almost falling to the floor.
Ahead of me, the conversation goes on as normal, as if nothing has happened.
Taking a few steadying breaths, I tentatively step back in, pressing again at the phantom Overseer. My fingers disappear into him once more, melting through his body as if it isn't even there.
I do the same with the girl, shock coursing through my veins, and get the same result. I stand between them, blocking their view of one another, but neither one notices me.
A dream, I think. I must be dreaming.
Or, is it something else? Am I...looking at a memory?
I put such questions aside, stepping back again as I listen to the conversation, wide-eyed, marvelling at the real-ness of it all. Of...whatever this is.
The Overseer, whose youthful appearance now makes more sense, continues to speak with the girl in his typically alluring way. I watch him closely, the use of eye contact, listen to the subtly persuasive tone to his words.
And the girl, she eats it up, evidently excited by what lies ahead, by the path she may yet tread. A young Fire-Blood, a rare breed here, training in the Temple of Fire. A girl born for this, destined for something beyond that of a normal person.
A girl I look at and, with a brief note of envy, wish had been me.
The two don't talk for long, and soon begin to move off. I find myself moving in step behind them, trying to follow, desperate to see more, hear more, learn more about them. They reach the exit, passing beneath the archway, and turn off to the left. I move right after them, and my eyes...greet an empty corridor.
Confusion sets in again. I turn back to the chamber, and find it empty. The hearth burns as before, the chamber lit at the centre, surrounded by a gentle gloom. I spin around and look the other way down the corridor. I see nobody there. No young girl. No young Overseer. No one is with me.
I'm alone.
I have dinner in the darkest corner of the dining chamber I can find that night, returning from the depths of the temple with light fading outside. My mind runs with so many things, not least the strange vision I had. It felt like something so much more than a dream, something real that happened long ago. Was it the room itself? The fire and flame? Does that particular chamber hold some sort of mystical, magical properties?<
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I ponder idly as I eat, my appetite returning after a long day without food. It leaves again when I see Hestia arrive, stamping in, rudely waving the Worthies away as they try to serve her, then serving herself and stuffing her ugly face. She sits far away from me near to the exit, but right in my eyeline, sneering at me the entire time.
After the day I've had, it's just what I need. This maniacal murderess staring me out.
It gets worse moments later, when Richter enters, one side of his face badly bruised. He sits near Hestia, focusing on the wine rather than the food, the two clearly finding some common ground in their mutual hatred for me. My initial feeling of remorse towards Richter evaporates with that horrid, sneering look on his face. In fact, that feeling of triumph returns in its place, forcing a smile onto my face.
"Looking good there, handsome," I find myself calling out across the dining hall, my words breaking the awkward silence and resounding loudly through the spacious chamber. I raise my own cup of wine - I needed at least one to settle my nerves - in his direction. "To your health, Richter," I say. "I pray to the divine Prime that it deteriorates rapidly."
He seethes at my comment, but has no comeback. Hestia, meanwhile, launches herself to her feet, breathing heavily, eyes seeming like they're about to explode.
She snorts a few times like a bull. I find it quite amusing.
"Whoa there, Hestia," I say, feeling the adrenaline begin to pump, pressing away my fears and doubts. "What is this? You and Richter an item, are you? Your boyfriend can't defend himself?"
Her eyes roar, and hands glow red. It's all bark and no bite. She isn't going to do anything. Neither of these bullies are.
"Pretty light show," I say, heart pumping the blood through my veins. "But, I think I can trump you."
I stand up, lifting my hands, sending sparks of fire spreading through my fingers. I turn my hands over, and gather the flame into my palm. The hours spent honing my skills with Elian have paid off, everything just starting to click into place.
"Neither of you can do this, right?" I ask them both. "Yeah, I've heard it's a rare skill. You're either born with it, or you're not, I guess. How does that make you feel, knowing a Fringe rat like me is so much more divine than you?"
"Divine," scratches Hestia's voice, breaking free of its shackles. "You'll never be one of us, Fringe rat. You'll always be known as the girl..."
"The girl from the Fringe who became the Chosen. You know, that's got a pretty cool ring to it," I say. "But the key part there, beautiful Hestia, is the word 'Chosen'. I have a chance of selection. You...well, you're just making up the numbers, really. It's sort of tragic, if you ask me."
"No one is asking you!" she roars, her voice crackling like flame. "You killed our people, and your own. You're nothing but a heretic and a murderer!"
"I'm a murderer?" I say, enjoying watching her lose control and, rarely, not doing so myself. "That's rich coming from you." I switch my gaze on Richter as I see Hestia about to explode with a response. "And you? You hate me...why, exactly? Because your loser brother didn't make the cut? Because I'm more gifted than both of you? You call yourself gods, but you're just so Prime-damned...pathetic! Imagine if either of you faced a real problem in your lives. For Prime's sake, grow the hell up!"
My words ring out dismissively, and within them, I hear the condescension that Elian speaks of. Yeah, maybe I am jumping to conclusions. Maybe I am judging things too quickly. But, to be honest, I don't care in this instance. These two are just so asinine and pitiful.
To tell the truth, I see them as beneath me.
A silence follows the outburst, the room having scattered of the Worthy, each of them scuttling off to the kitchens to take cover should our words combust into something more violent. Suddenly, it's just three Fire-Bloods here, hands glowing, eyes glaring. I prepare myself for a fight, my breathing steady, my body relaxed. I put into practice the lessons Elian taught me. I stay in control.
And a large part of me yearns for the conflict.
But then, through the door, a final figure comes. Elian himself, strolling forward confidently, eyes taking in the scene. He looks at Hestia, then Richter, then over at me. He shakes his head at the sight, aiming his rebuking, almost disappointed, expression at me.
"Well, what a surprise this is," he says with a sigh. "You think this is any way for the Chosen to act?" He looks around the three of us, finishing on me. "I almost regretted what I said yesterday," he tells me. "But seeing this...no. You're broken, Fringe girl. There's something...wrong inside you."
He strolls towards the buffet tables of food, and casually begins filling a plate, not waiting for an attending Worthy to serve him. I stare at him a moment, and the flame around me fades.
And silently, I wander out of the dining hall and down to the dorm-chambers, a familiar sense of loneliness enveloping me once more.
38
"Up, get up now. Up, up, up!"
The voice booms into the darkness, breaking me from my dreams. My eyes rip open, head swishing left and right and trying to get my bearings. Ahead, I see the faint shape of a figure leaping to attention from his alcove, dragging on his robes, rushing right for the central corridor. Within a split second, Elian is ready to meet whatever challenge is coming our way.
I'm still trying to figure out just what the hell is happening.
It takes a few more precious moments before I'm rolling from my bed - rather less gracefully than Elian - hauling my robes on - probably back-to-front or something - and stumbling towards the corridor. There, I see Hestia, Richter, and Pentecost already assembled. Beyond them, the Overseer stands, back to his old, regular form.
My mind flashes again with the vision I saw, everything muddled up and blurred as I shake off the final vestiges of sleep. For a second, I think it was all just a dream. Maybe it was. It's becoming difficult to tell around here.
"Good morning, everyone," comes the Overseer's voice. "You've had two days of rest. Now we go again. Follow me, and brace yourselves. Today will not be easy."
He twists and marches out, the rest of us following. I find Krun in the hall, looking mightily tired and disgruntled at having to be up so early. Beyond, there's no natural light spilling through the exit to the courtyard outside. The first hints of dawn haven't even arrived.
The five remaining High Worthies are also there, Marlow among them. He speeds to my side, ever dutiful, looking extremely relieved to be seeing me again. With a tight smile on his face, he performs his usual bow. "I hope you've had a productive two days, Lady Amber," he whispers.
I think of the last forty eight hours with mixed emotions, glancing at Elian, Hestia and Richter. Only Pentecost remains as a candidate I have no feelings towards, one way or the other.
"I heard about the altercation you had with Master Richter," Marlow goes on. He manages to suppress a smile - to show any sign of joy at the infliction of injury on a Child of the Prime is surely an absolute no-no - but only just. "And I hear you trained well with Master Elian. Is your control improving?"
I nod, and kinda shrug at the same time, too weary and tired right now for much chat. "I guess so." I look at Elian. He's purposefully not looking at me. "He was...quite helpful actually."
"Oh, that's wonderful to hear," Marlow says. "I don't imagine you could find a better teacher."
"No, I guess not."
Mercifully, the Overseer begins his usual preamble, interrupting our conversation, dramatically moving to his usual position before the Eternal Flame and, well, I don't honestly listen. Instead, I just stare at him, my mind switching to the odd vision again. It was a truly bizarre experience, and one I need to follow up on. I sense a deep urge to return to the depths of this temple once more, to relive it, re-view it.
I manage to get the gist of what the man says, however. Another day of testing, in which another cull will occur. I feel ready for it, despite my distractions and lack of proper rest. I feel, almost, like I'm destined for something more than to make it this far
, and be dumped at the final hurdle.
No, there's something happening beyond my control here. I may have gained a margin of control over my powers, but beyond that, I feel powerless, like a piece of flotsam caught in a current, dragged downriver with no hope of reaching the sides.
And, right now, I don't care. I trust the process. I begin to give in.
The day begins early, before the crowds come alive. We're taken through the darkness towards a part of the city in the northwest. It's not far from the temple, this region of the city seemingly designed for the training and habitation of certain types of Children with, I suppose, physical gifts. Powers that might be weaponised, making the individual useful as a soldier or warrior among the military ranks of the city.
First, we arrive at a place utilised by a people known as the Titans. I don't have to ask what specific gifts they possess; their size and shape giving me all the answers I need. They are the giants, the type of god to whom Krun belongs and, given his military rank as Captain and personal relationship with Herald Perses, excels.
We arrive at their temple to find several of these gigantic men assembled in a courtyard. They wear tightly fitted clothing of black, their gigantic, extensively muscled physiques so intimidating to the eye. I see Krun approach them, shake their hands fondly. He looks to be roughly the same size as his brethren, and probably trained here in the past before being recruited into the military ranks.
"The clothing they are wearing is designed to withstand extremely high temperatures," the Overseer informs us, waving a hand across the waiting Titans. "You will enter the square one by one. The goal is simple - use your powers to press them beyond the boundary line, and stay within it yourself. Make no mistake, these Titans are extremely strong, and have been given instructions to hold nothing back. They will attempt to kill you if they can."
