Midnight's Blossom

by Corinn Heathers

  I smiled at her. “Me, too.”

  “Um, do you want something to drink? I mean, all I have is water but—”

  Doing my best to learn from Rose's example, I put a finger to her lips. Yukari shivered at my touch, and I moved closer to her. She was just the slightest bit shorter than me, just barely a centimeter at most. From behind her large round-rimmed glasses, her eyes were dreamy and half-lidded.

  “I…” Yukari attempted, but words quickly failed her. Something that I couldn't quite interpret issued forth from her, but soon her ability to form discrete concepts via the resonance gave way to a pure ebb and flow of emotion. It was unlike anything else I'd ever experienced. Yukari's feelings became almost a tangible thing, enveloping me in warmth equivalent to that which I felt from Rose, but markedly different in nature.

  “I… I…”

  “It's okay,” I murmured. “Really. I wouldn't say so if it wasn't.”

  Yukari's lips pressed against mine, and my breath caught in my chest. The way she kissed was so very different than how Rose did. There was just as much urgency, but it was clumsier, less assured and a little awkward. The fierce heat that seethed at Rose's core was not present; instead, it was a warm and soothing embrace of entwining shadows that felt just as good, just as right.

  My eyes closed of their own accord, and I could feel Yukari's hands on me. Her excitement, radiating in waves from her soul, was nearly overwhelming, but there was little of Rose's aggressive confidence in her movements. Delicate fingertips brushed against my sides, the small of my back, and the two of us teetered off-balance before we collapsed to Yukari's bed.

  It felt like such a long time had passed when Yukari drew away from me. Her lovely eyes gazed deeply into mine and her head tilted to one side, just slightly. She was lying on top of me, her slight frame pressing me down into the soft mattress.

  “Lily… I want you. So much.”

  I smiled at her. “Were you hoping things would lead to this?”

  She nodded several times.

  It did not take long before we'd scattered our clothing across the polished wood floor. Without her loose-fitting hooded jacket and denim pants, I could see she was very slim and straight. From a purely physical standpoint, I suspected Yukari would have gone unnoticed by most. Her most notable feature was her brilliant red irises, a gift from her miinari parent.

  I let my hands settle on the small of her back and kissed her again. I was more used to being the one on top, as Rose was so much larger and heavier than me. Yukari weighed less than I did, and her chest was even more abbreviated than mine. Her skin was smooth and clear, without the freckles that were scattered all over Rose's body, and much fairer in complexion.

  Her scars, however…

  Yukari's body was covered in scars. So many scars, in so many places, that I was momentarily shocked she was even still alive. The pale lines traced into the tan cream of her flesh marked countless old wounds, nearly all of which appeared to have been made by blade or bullet. I lost count of the sheer number of scars, each one clearly the result of an attempt to take her life.

  “W-well, now you know why I c-cover up all the time,” Yukari stammered, blushing fiercely. “I'm sorry I'm not p-pretty like Rose.”

  I shook my head adamantly. “No, you're beautiful, Yukari.”

  “Yuka,” she said, low and breathlessly. “I want you to call me that.”

  “Okay, Yuka.”

  “I've fought. In wars, I mean. And outside of them. The s-scars you can accumulate over the centuries…” She went silent for a moment, and I kissed the corner of her mouth to encourage her. Yuka managed a sweet smile. “I w-was just a child of thirteen summers in Kanamiina, before humans and miinari alike were forced to abandon their homeland, when the kanari turned against their creators and all other races.”

  She leaned on me, her face so near to mine, and she put her lips to my cheek. “I fought for survival. We all did. We only survived because the kanari were content to drive us out of Kanamiina, but did not give chase.

  “I fought and bled and nearly died many times over. I fought against humans, paladins of the Celestial Prophecy. The crusaders were more widespread then, the Church not quite so confined to the Empire. Their holy warriors would be sent to hunt anyone with any trace of miinari magicks. Even half-fey. Even those necromancers who were not miinari at all, but 'tainted' by the dark fairies' all the same.”

  I wasn't surprised to hear that the Empire's crusaders had been successful at killing most of the miinari. Driven out of their ancestral home by the kanari, the dark fairies were forced to seek refuge and succor from nations of humans, humans who despised them and considered their inherent Aspect as a sign of evil. Such was the word of the Celestial One, the divine patron of the Holy Solarian Empire.

  But it wasn't, because there were no gods left. They had all passed into the void or departed this universe for another well over a thousand years ago, according to Willow Corvus. I didn't know what to believe, though. If the Celestial One truly was among His children… why was I still here? Why was Yuka still here? Why would a divine power suffer His greatest enemy to exist?

  There was no way to answer that question. Willow Corvus may have scornfully laughed off the existence of a deity called the Celestial One, but I was unwilling to be so incredulous. There was power behind the Church, power that couldn't be explained simply by the scheming of the mages of the Celestial Acolytes.

  “You are troubled by your thoughts,” Yuka observed.

  “I wish I could just… not think of anything, for a while.”

  Yuka's shy smile didn't match the desire in her ruby-colored eyes. “I believe I can help you with ceasing to think of such things.”

  I giggled. “I would appreciate that.”

  I felt her fingertips on my thighs, drifting inward, moving between them. Yuka's thumb brushed against something that sent jolts of euphoria racing up my spine and I moaned involuntarily. My whole body tensed up as Yuka let her fingers slowly trace around, around, around—

  A loud, ragged gasp was torn from my lips as I felt her go inside me. The heat of our shared desire filled my core to bursting and I found myself gripping the plain gray blankets so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

  The sounds I was making became muffled as Yuka kissed me. Even so filled with that hot hunger, Yuka lacked aggression. She was the very definition of gentleness. My mind's eye gazed upon her heart, filled to bursting with love that sprang forth from a person who had endured so much violence, who had held hands with death for over a hundred years.

  She pulled away, sucking in deep breaths, and I forced my eyes open with great difficulty. Yuka wore a faint smile. Her lovely face captured every last bit of my attention and she kissed me again, and again, and again.

  It did not take long at all before Yuka was able to grant my wish.

  *

  I awoke some time later. Judging by the dim light filtering in through the drawn blinds, it was morning, but still rather early. I blinked to clear the blurriness from my vision, and I noticed that Yuka was already up. The scent hit me next—the earthy smell of coffee. I sat up on Yuka's bed, the blanket falling away from my bare chest, and spotted her at the counter near the stove.

  She was already dressed, apparently having stepped out to the greengrocer's and come back while I still slept. I watched as she poured hot water from a kettle over a filter full of freshly-ground coffee. A small carton of cream sat nearby, and after a few moments of waiting, Yuka removed the filter apparatus and poured a fair bit of cream into the mug.

  “Morning,” I mumbled.

  “Oh, did I wake you?”

  “No, the coffee did,” I replied.

  Yuka smiled as she came toward me, bearing a steaming mug. I accepted gratefully and took a slow sip, feeling the bitter brew clear away some of the fuzziness and bring me into full awareness. She sat down on the edge of the bed, too, with a mug of her own.

  “Did you sleep well?”

&
nbsp; “Very.”

  She sipped at her coffee. “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “For spending the night with me.”

  My cheeks warmed and I laughed nervously. “You should probably thank Rose.”

  “I intend to,” Yuka agreed. She leaned against me and we drank our coffee. Words became unnecessary; as I'd become closer to Yuka and as she opened up to me, the entangled emotions of our resonance was vastly more appropriate to communicate our feelings.

  “You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?” I asked after a while.

  “I am.” Yuka grinned at me around the edge of her mug. “The closer we are, the easier it is to understand each other's resonance. I am not the best teacher, of course, but… I hope this closeness will help you to learn.”

  “It's weird… I don't feel anything like this with Rose, but that's because she's human. I don't clearly sense her emotions reaching out to me. I pick them up through her voice, her movements, her expression.”

  Yuka brushed her nose against mine. “It won't always be like that. Human souls still echo the voices of their hearts, and we can still hear those whispers on the wind, if we know to listen closely enough.”

  Click.

  It was as if a piece I hadn't even known was missing had just slid into place. I stared at Yuka, my eyes wide. She tilted her head to one side, as was her habit, and gazed back at me curiously.

  “You are thinking of something,” she observed. “Something important.”

  “I just thought that—that maybe that's why the Empire is so afraid of the fey.” My expression was pensive as I considered the thought. I had no proof, but it seemed plausible. The way in which humans hid behind lies was telling—and Mother's people hid behind so many of them that it made a disturbing amount of sense.

  “Pardon?”

  “The resonance!” I blurted excitedly. “They're afraid of us because they think we can push past the lies they build up around themselves and delve into their hearts.”

  Yuka gave me a dubious look. “It's not that simple, though.”

  “Yes, but ordinary humans can't control their resonance. You said that yourself.” My mind began to race at the grim possibilities, the likely outcomes of this revelation. “No matter how skilled they are at crafting lies with words, if they can't close the gates to their heart…” I trailed off, fixing her with a meaningful look.

  Yuka met my gaze squarely and nodded a confirmation. “The resonance, in conjunction with certain spells of necromancy, could permit a fey mage access to the primordial essence of another.” Yuka's shoulders shuddered briefly at the thought, and she turned a worried look upon me. “Not only to read what is written… but—”

  “To rewrite it as they saw fit,” I finished for her.

  The ripples of Yuka's heart were momentarily drowned out by what felt oddly like a confirmation from another, older resonant connection. Eiri's legacy was trying to tell me something, but my inability to decipher the language of the soul made it difficult to understand. I didn't know what the relic was saying, but its tone was unmistakable.

  It appeared as if at least some of the Empire's anti-miinari propaganda contained a kernel of truth. The ability to forcefully dominate the will of another sapient being, to alter and reshape another person against their will, was a terrible and monstrous thing. Stories I'd grown up hearing, whispered tales of dark fairies enthralling hapless humans, flooded into my mind. I'd always assumed those tales were fanciful bits of fear-mongering, whispered lies intended to stoke the hatred of Solaria's people, but now I wasn't so sure.

  Yuka and I both exchanged looks. I suspected my expression mirrored hers; the both of us looked sickened by the very concept. There was no way the miinari would have done such a thing, even if they could. Was there? It was not a comfortable thought.

  “Lily,” Yuka said in a tone I could not ignore.

  “Um?”

  She kissed my cheek. We were so very close, and her scent soothed me. “You can't assume responsibility for something our ancestors might have done. Would you willingly accept judgment for the Empire's crimes? For the crimes of your own family?”

  “No,” I conceded.

  “Were you not forced to bear the burden for the actions of the kanari, simply because they were created by those who came before us?”

  I hesitated for a moment, but nodded. Memories of the Academy, of the time I spent in Naara, came flooding into my thoughts. Yuka knew, just as I knew, that the human nations of this world blamed the miinari for the Forge War. In Solaria, that sentiment was latched upon by the Church and by the conservative Houses, a narrative pushed to remind each and every Solarian citizen of the miinari’s inherent evil.

  They are vile monsters with no chance for redemption. In their unending hubris, they created a mockery of life, brazenly attempting to touch the shadow of the gods, and the whole of the world was punished.

  To the Empire, the Forge War was a penance, a price paid for humanity's refusal to follow the Celestial One's divine law. It was almost too easy for the citizens of Solaria to accept this; after all, it had been Fialla that offered succor to the refugee fey, and Fialla that suffered the worst damage in that terrible conflict. What comparatively minor damage that had been done to Solaria was interpreted as the Celestial One's protection rescinded, to deliver a stern warning. To remind His children to abide by His directive:

  Exterminate the evil that is necromancy. Punish all who offered the dark fairies succor. Cleanse the world of the taint of dark magic.

  Part V

  -

  Depths

  Chapter 26

  Gray Radiance

  I felt more than a little uncomfortable waiting in the Merope family manor while Rose spoke with her father. Fortunately, I was not alone; Yuka slouched on the divan next to me, her attention divided between staring into the screen of her multicom and sending me occasional adoring looks.

  Cassius had all four of us—Rose, myself, Yuka and Shion—in conference for the past several hours. After much heated discussion, all but Rose were dismissed. Shion had wandered in the direction of the manor dining room, seeking something to eat, leaving Yuka and myself to while away the minutes on our own.

  “You are thinking troubled thoughts,” Yuka observed.

  I blinked, momentarily surprised she'd spoken to me out loud. Over the past week, since that wonderful evening together, Yuka and I worked to hone my ability to understand resonance. At first I'd been rather dubious about the whole prospect, but quickly I realized that learning to listen to the soul's whispers was vastly easier and much more intuitive than learning a spoken language.

  For five days, neither of us uttered a single audible word to the other. I found the muffled, not-quite-intelligible impressions and sensations frustrating, at least at first. Contrary to what Shion had told me and her own protestations to the contrary, Yuka was a fine teacher. As time went by, the indistinct murmurings began to crystallize into discrete concepts. It was still difficult, as I'd been taught to think as humans do. Separating the “words” of the resonance from the physical concept of language would take time.

  Yuka was attentive, caring, dedicated to teaching me and infinitely patient to an awe-inspiring degree. Though I supposed one had to learn patience after living for nearly two centuries.

  “I am,” I admitted, likewise speaking aloud. “I don't know about this plan.”

  “I, too, have reservations.” Yuka nestled closer to me on the divan, leaning her head against my shoulder. I could feel her breath, warm against the flesh of my throat. “Still, it's the surest way, and the one that exposes you and Rose to the least amount of danger.”

  “That's not what I—”

  Yuka kissed the corner of my mouth and smiled. “You knew it would be like this.”

  “I know, I know, it's not like two random Fiallan necromancers can just wander around the Academy,” I allowed, frowning. “I know it makes sense, but I still don't like it.”r />
  “Rose will be with you,” Yuka reminded me, “and I will always be listening to the words you whisper into the aetherial winds.” [It's not quite the same, true, but know that we will only be parted for a short time.]

  I closed my eyes. [I'm sorry. I'm being selfish and immature.]

  [It's okay to feel this way, Lily,] she replied. Her eyes sparkled like crimson jewels. [As I'm also feeling rather selfish and immature.]

  I grinned at that. Sometimes it was hard to remember which of us was older. Yuka's social skills were poor, the result of a life spent largely isolated from others and focused entirely upon singular goals. Before it had been arcane research for the Cabal, it was war. Unwillingly thrust into a world of conflict as a child, she was made to fight in order to survive, and her battle had lasted far longer than most.

  The mission plan so far had been devised by Cassius, with Rose and Shion's input. Neither Yuka nor myself had much of a head for this sort of thing, and so we deferred to those who did. It called for Rose and me to return to the Academy as if nothing had ever happened, as if neither of us knew of the impending conflict on the horizon. Shion and Yukari would then travel to Solaria, under the pretense of Merope business interests, in order to make contact with Willow Corvus and, through her, the larger Antilight organization.

  My return to the Academy would distract Lord Cyrus. We all assumed he expected me to hide away in Fialla, but he couldn't discount the slim possibility of my return. It was my job to do exactly that, while Yuka and Shion made contact with the rebels. What protection I could glean as a student at the Academy would make it exceptionally difficult for House Alcyone to interfere outside the normal legal channels. He would be forced to proceed through the bureaucracy, and it would be time-consuming, no matter what sort of agents he had within IPSB.

  Ultimately, it wasn't all that different from what I'd originally intended to do. I was worried for Rose, though, as the tensions between the two nations grew ever more dangerous. From what Cassius informed us, the Imperial Court would be able to pass a resolution declaring war if they managed to obtain a two-thirds majority of Heads of House. At the moment, they didn't have the votes. Yet. The Merope patriarch was watching the Empire closely, his associates and contacts within Solaria keeping a close watch on the direction the winds were blowing.