by T. C. Edge
None of the rest of us manage anything close, the trial ending with my own, embarrassing turn as I place my hands into the water, and watch it do little more than fizzle and bubble about an inch's diameter around my fingers and palms.
The crowd, knowing who I am, snigger and laugh. No praise for me here. No respect. I suffer only humiliation and indignity from the ignorant masses.
Did I really expect anything less?
It's not, however, their reaction that gets to me most, but my failure. Perhaps the ability to lower my temperature isn't something I'm ever going to be good at. After all, the ability to control fire has been largely instinctive, if combustible at times. This, however, was an abject failure. There was nothing that felt natural about that.
I worry a little if it will impact my day's performance as we assemble back at the Temple of Fire, the Overseer ready to address us. He doesn't waste much time on this occasion before doing what we all expect and eliminating Pentecost. The thickset man nods, expecting it, and moves off hastily. In fact, he seems almost eager to exit the competition, perhaps fearing that the next contest might just be too much for him.
As he moves off, I tense up. The Overseer's gaze moves upon the rest of us, before a smile warms his expression.
"Rest well tonight, the four of you," he says, leading to a slight raise of the eyes from Richter, as if he expected to be jettisoned too. "We continue tomorrow. The evening is yours. Eat, socialise, relax." His eyes turn to me. "Explore, if you wish. I will return in the morning."
He nods, and swishes his colourful robes, slicing off through the air. The rest of the candidates disband immediately, going their separate ways. Elian, rarely around unless eating or sleeping, quickly works towards the exit, continuing to ignore me. Hestia stalks off towards the dorms, looking rather tired. So tired, in fact, that she doesn't even sneer at me. Her relaxed expression, if you can call it that, isn't actually so bad. Still ugly, sure, but in less of a demented psycho sort of way.
Richter, meanwhile, heads immediately to the dining chamber. I suspect he's after wine, both celebratory and, perhaps, to calm his frayed nerves. The day has been testing for him, and he has a few more bruises to accompany the one I gave him. Like Hestia, he doesn't seem energised enough to hate me right now.
"They're more of a pleasant bunch when tired, aren't they, Lady Amber," says Marlow, at my side until I dismiss him. He always lingers there, hoping to be found useful. Honestly, aside from giving me information and generally being a comforting presence to have nearby, there's not much he can do for me.
But, was that a joke?
I raise my eyes at the comment.
"Marlow. Speaking that way about Children of the Prime?!" I say, with a wry smile. "Scandalous."
He joins me in the expression, something almost playful on his face. "I suppose you must be having an influence on me, my Lady."
I laugh, the sound tinkling around the great hall, causing a few of the Fire-Worthies to look up from their posts. "I hope not too much," I say, lowering my voice. "I wouldn't want to see you get in trouble."
"Nothing to fear there, I assure you. I am well practiced in social etiquette. It's just, I'm starting to know your mind, my Lady. I presumed that you'd enjoy the comment. And, to hear you laugh, it's a wonderful thing."
"That's...very sweet," I say softly. "But, you are failing me in one regard."
He stiffens, posture straightening. "What, my Lady?"
"That," I tell him. "You're not calling me Amber, as I asked you to."
"Oh, of course. I apologise. It's a habit that's highly ingrained and, well, hard to break."
"No, it's OK. I'm only kidding, Marlow. You can use my titles if you want. I...don't mind."
No, I'm starting to like it.
He smiles, and bows. "As you wish, Lady Amber," he says, smiling fondly. "Is there anything you wish for me to do for you this evening? You must be exhausted after the day's exertions. I know my advice is only meant as guidance, but I'd suggest a hearty dinner and good long sleep." He turns towards the entrance to the dining hall. "Shall we?"
His words appeal to me, though knowing that Richter's already in there, drowning his weary head in wine, makes the concept less appealing. No, there's something else I wish to do, an itch I need to scratch.
Explore, the Overseer said just now, his eyes upon me.
Yes, there's somewhere I need to go.
"I think I'll forgo the dinner," I tell the High Worthy, my eyes already wandering off towards the path that leads beneath the temple. "Those high energy bars were plenty for me. I'll go straight for the rest, I think."
"Of course, my Lady. Then, if it pleases you, I shall take my leave. As always, call on me if you require anything, any hour of the day."
He bows, and moves off, walking smoothly across the polished temple floor towards the grand arched exit. My path will take me in the opposite direction.
To the other end of the hall I walk.
And into the depths I go.
40
I feel a rising sense of nerves as I approach the chamber where I saw into the past, my breathing hasty and tight, my pulse beginning to quicken. The gloom seems to gather around me, closing in down here in the cold, stagnant air. I let a spark of fire ignite within to help light my way, warm my blood, frighten off the ghouls that gather in the corners of my vision.
I reach the archway, and turn my eyes inside. The same chamber as before greets me, the hearth in the centre lit with a soft fire, the walls covered in more simple carvings and depictions of Fire-Bloods from the past.
It seems a room out of time, as though unfinished, an early version of what it would become. I can't explain the feeling that engulfs me, but I get the sensation of stepping into the past as I move under that archway, the chamber caught within some magical spell.
I wander in as I did before, alone, running my fingers upon the light cracks in the walls, the rough and unpolished stone. I look at the murals, at the simple carvings, that appear to have been sculpted by the hand of man, not the mind of some divinity.
Minutes pass, my eyes glancing at the door, hoping to see...something. I don't honestly know what to expect. Am I wishing to see the Overseer again in his youthful form. Or that young girl, so like Lilly or a younger version of myself, the Fire-Blood in training I might have been.
The girl a part of me yearns to have been.
Is that all this is, I wonder, tracing my step around the room. Is this just my mind bringing up my heart's true desire? Is this the work of the Overseer himself, another trick to turn me, make my fully commit?
But I am fully committed, aren't I? I ponder. I went all out today to try to best Elian, show what I can do to the Overseer, my opponents, all those in attendance watching on. I wanted to perform, to win. I wanted to see those smiles, hear that applause. I wanted the people to love me.
If that's not committing, then just what is?
Something deeper, a voice whisper inside. Something...more.
I continue to wander, my mind ticking over, waiting for something that I don't truly understand. Every time I do a circuit of the room, I end at the doorway, looking each way down the corridor. Each time, I see a long, empty expanse stretching either way into the gloom.
I return to my march and vigil, growing more despondent with each circumnavigation. After what must be an hour, I shake my head and decide to give in. I look around the room one final time, and sense that magical quality fading. The hearth begins to grow weak, the flame receding, sucking out some of the warmth along with it.
It's just a room, I think. Just a forgotten place down here in the depths.
Then, finally, I hear a noise. The shuffling of feet upon the threshold. I spin around, excited, and find my eyes coming into contact with a young woman, dressed in simple robes of grey.
I pause, staring at her for an extended moment. Is this another vision of the past? Who is this girl? What is her signifi....
"I'm sorry, my Lady," she s
ays coyly, dipping her head. "I didn't expect to find anyone here..."
I frown. "You can...see me?"
A strange expression crosses her face. One of confusion, though with a full frown held back. It's as if the expression is considered rude for a Worthy when addressing a Child of the Prime, her face remaining as neutral as possible.
"Um, yes, my Lady," she says. "I can see you."
I smile foolishly. "Of course." I shake my head. "I'm, er, just feeling a little..."
I trail off, disappointed.
"Is everything all right, my Lady?" the young Worthy asks. "Is there anything you need?"
I sigh. "Some answers might help," I say. I look up at the girl. "I don't suppose you know what this room is, exactly? It's not...well, this is going to sound stupid, but it's not...magical in any way, is it?"
I hear my own words. They sound utterly ridiculous.
"I don't believe so. I only tend the hearth here, keep it lit." She looks over my shoulder awkwardly, the fire beginning to go out.
I realise I'm in the way, and step aside. "Oh, sorry. Sure, go ahead."
She steps in hurriedly, and begins prodding at the fire, drawing a bag from her back, adding kindling and sturdier chunks of wood. Soon enough, the hearth is roaring once again, setting a pleasant light, and warmth, to the room.
"Is it only you who keeps this one lit?" I ask the girl.
She nods. "For now, yes. I am quite new to the Temple of Fire. This is my training, really. I must keep the fire lit at all times."
"That's got to be exhausting. When do you get to sleep?"
"Well, I sleep in short bursts. It's quite all right, really. I am honoured to be here in service of the Fire-Bloods." She bows to me. "I hope I'm not speaking out of turn, but I admire you greatly. So few from the Fringe are ever selected for ascension and awakening. But...to compete in the Trial of the Chosen. I think it's unheard of."
I smile genuinely at her. "So, you know who I am?"
"Of course. We all do. Every Worthy across the city is hearing all about you."
"Really? I didn't think I'd be so well thought of. Not after what happened at the...well, you know."
"Oh, that wasn't your fault, my Lady. We all know now how new these powers are to you. It can't be easy to see that divinity unleashed after being so long held at bay."
"No, it's not," I say, lifting a comfortable smile. Then I glance around the room again, feeling a little deflated. It really is nothing. Just another room here in the depths of the temple, used for the training of Fire-Worthies. "Well, I should let you get on," I say. "I don't want to interrupt or distract you."
"You never could, my Lady. This temple is yours. We only keep it in good use. Any time you want to come here to escape or relax, please do so. I'm the only one who ever comes here, unless a High Worthy comes to check the flame remains lit." She smiles. "And that's quite rare anyway. I would...be honoured to speak with you again."
"Thank you," I say, genuinely touched. "What is your name?"
"It's Isabelle."
"Well, Isabelle, I'm Amber. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Oh no, the pleasure was mine." She bows low. "Good evening, my Lady."
"Good evening, Isabelle."
As I leave the room, I hear the gentle hum of prayer being spoken. Amid Isabelle's prayers, I hear my own name.
It's the first time I hear myself truly spoken as a god.
I meander through the temple, feeling despondent to hear the bland truth of the not-so-mystical chamber down below. Many questions still burn, but I put them aside for now, my head too weary for such speculation. It's an exhausting habit of mine, trying to solve mysteries that present no answers, trying to discover the truth of things that give no real clue of their meaning or origin.
It's much easier just to let the tide take me, and right now, it's leading me to my bed.
I reach the main hall, and begin wandering through the grand space, heading for the path that leads down to the dorm-chambers. I spare little thought now for the discomfort of sharing that space with Hestia and Richter, knowing both will be far too exhausted tonight to try anything on.
Eyes weary and blurring around the edges, I lumber forwards with little grace, hardly caring to look around at the Worthies tending the fires and praying at their statues. I've grown used to the warming lights by now, the general hum of quiet, soothing voices. There is something peaceful about this grand place, a holiness that I rather enjoy.
At times it's plenty to make me forget about where these Fire-Worthies came from, the lies they've been told. I have to actively remind myself of my passion for my own people and their plight. My anger at the control that the Children of the Prime exert, the way they dominate a people they see as beneath them.
I fear, in such moments when I walk through this grand chamber, or wander among the magnificent city streets, or learn a little more about the wondrous powers that reside inside me, how much I really care. Did I only care because I didn't know better? Am I so fickle as to be so easily turned?
I get almost towards the tunnel and stairs that lead to the dorms, before I feel something odd take place. I turn, blinking a few times to clear my vision, and take in the grand space before me. A frown falls upon my eyes, brows drawing together.
There's something different about it.
A subtle change, but a noticeable one, as the details come into view.
I turn my eyes to large sculptures I've admired over the last few days, but find those of lesser design and scale in their place. I look to large, beautiful basins, ever burning with strong flames, and find them either gone or much different, simple hearths where they once stood. I turn my eyes to the grand centrepiece, the Eternal Flame, and see that it is the only feature to remain the same, standing the test of time.
My eyes flick to the ceiling, to the pillars that hold it up, to the grand archway that gives exit to the building. All are slightly different to before, less ornately carved or painted, less magnificent in their design. The entire room, in fact, is just as the chamber down below. It seems like an early version of the hall I know. It seems, once more, as if I've stepped into the past.
I freeze at that thought, and suddenly notice the shape of figures walking from the archway at the entrance to the building. They march on, one at the head with wondrous robes, other officials flanking him. Behind, I see several people of youthful appearance, perhaps ranging in their late teens to mid-twenties, all of them wearing the signature garb of the Fire-Bloods; though with robes lacking the shimmering effect, early versions of what adorns me now.
Three are men, strong looking and robust, the last a woman in her late teens. She looks to be about my age, perhaps a year or two older. She looks like...
Like the same girl as before, several years on.
I see that golden blonde hair, those shining eyes. They hold a framing of determination, her expression fixed and unyielding. The same wide-eyed wonder, the excitement, I saw before is still present, only contained. Locked down behind years of further practice and experience, so many hours of honing her skills.
I watch her and her three male companions as they advance, the group ahead of them marching up towards the Eternal Flame. There, they stop, and the man in the vibrant robes turns. I catch his eyes, his narrow features suddenly lit by the light.
The Overseer, in his youthful iteration, stands as he has several times before me. Right there in front of the Eternal Flame within this great hall, addressing these young Fire-Bloods of the past.
I slowly step forward, getting a little closer, watching as the younger Overseer sways his eyes upon the four. He lifts a smile, one I've seen so often. His face works up a few lines, though nowhere near as deep as they are now. I try to place his age, but fail. He has the bearing of a man who has been on this earth for quite some time, kept young by methods I don't yet know or understand.
"I first want to congratulate you upon your wondrous performance these past two weeks," he begins, voice f
loating smoothly across the hall. It echoes slightly differently, the acoustics less developed. His manner of speaking also appears to have been perfected over the years. "All of you have displayed a great deal of skill and proficiency in many crafts. You will all see yourselves elevated in this great city, no matter what happens."
The four young Fire-Bloods shuffle nervously. I look into the young girl's eyes, my own nerves building vicariously as I watch. She stares forward, hands closed to fists, more still than the men lined up beside her.
"As you know, your performance has been closely analysed during the days of this contest, and myself and my aids have selected our victor. Having met the Prime yesterday, I can tell you that our decision has been ratified by our great Father and Mother."
He draws a triumphant breath, smiles, and looks down the line of candidates. "It gives me great pleasure," he concludes, voice commanding the room, "to announce that the first Chosen Fire-Blood will be...."
His lips shut tight, eyes working down the line. I can barely breathe as I watch.
Chosen Fire-Blood. I'm seeing the first ever Chosen Fire-Blood be selected...
His head turns to the far right. Keen eyes stop on the young girl with golden hair.
"Congratulations, Alberta," he says. "You are to be welcomed into the Chosen."
I feel my chest crunch, lungs all but collapse, as the vision fades away. I blink, eyes blurring, and find myself back in the temple, the hall, as I know it. The pillars stand strong, the ceiling beautifully carved. The fire burns bright and sculptures loom tall.
Alberta, I think, staring straight ahead.
My grandmother was the first Chosen.
41
I stand, cold, exhausted, my head filled with terrible things. All around me the great temple looms, the remaining three candidates lined up by my side. Ahead, the Eternal Flame burns bright, the Fire-Worthies tasked with keeping it alight standing to the side, ever attentive, ever watching its shimmering glow.
