by Beth Hodgson
Emerald thought of her mother. What would she do in her situation? Most likely do as she was told and continue to be unhappy. That was what her mother had done, and look where it got her. Emerald’s life was escaping her by the second, trapped within the palace walls in the same unhappiness that her mother had felt. She couldn’t relive her mother’s footsteps. Otherwise she would meet the same fate.
A thought struck her.
Emerald rose in a hurried fashion, then went inside her bedroom. She turned to the painting of the wild woman, still sitting on her easel.
Give me strength, she confessed to the picture.
Emerald began to rip the lavender dress off her body, running into her closet. At that moment, she heard the door to the sitting room open.
“Princess, this came for you,” Glacia said, holding out an envelope. She stopped in her tracks, looking at Emerald curiously as she dug through the closet. “What are you doing?”
Emerald found what she was looking for, yanking it out of the closet as Glacia handed over the small envelope, sealed with no known symbol.
“Who is it from?” Emerald asked, putting down her garment.
“Don’t know. It was slipped under your sitting room door.”
Emerald ripped open the letter, revealing Derek’s engagement ring inside, along with a note.
Thought you might want to have this. —E
Emerys. The only good man on the council. Him, and perhaps Lysander.
“It’s Derek’s ring…” Glacia said, looking over her shoulder.
Emerald held it close to her heart for a brief moment, then slipped the ring onto her finger. Taking a deep breath, she then shoved a purple corset halter top into Glacia’s hands. “Lace me up,” she ordered.
Hesitantly, Glacia followed through with Emerald’s demand. Emerald pointed at purple leggings that she’d thrown on the closet floor, along with a pair of metallic purple thigh-high boots. Glacia grabbed the garments, then began to dress Emerald.
“Can you at least tell me what’s going on?” Glacia asked with confusion in her voice, tugging on the corset strings in the back.
“I can’t live my life under my father’s rule,” Emerald announced. After Glacia secured the back of her top, Emerald finished putting on her leggings and boots.
“Are you leaving?” Glacia asked, raising her eyebrows.
Instead of answering, Emerald grabbed a silver bag from the closet, filling it with a few articles of clothing. Realizing what Emerald was doing, Glacia got in her face. “No, Princess! Don’t do this!” Glacia tried to grab her bag, but Emerald dodged her hands, sliding it onto her arms. “Have you even thought this through? You know your father will find out. Then what?”
Emerald turned and faced her. “Glacia, my father made it very clear that all he cares about is himself. I am to stay here, unmarried, in the palace, most likely until he passes away. Do I really want that for my life, living out my days until I grow old, confined?”
Glacia was unusually quiet.
“I cannot do that. I have had enough! No more will I live under my father’s rule,” Emerald said forcefully. “I never knew what my father was until he showed me his true self today. Despicable. Truly despicable.”
Glacia hung her head, lowering her eyes. Emerald knew Glacia agreed with her.
Emerald walked in front of her vanity, looking at her reflection. She hooked a pair of large flashy earrings in her ears, then noticed her hair. Everyone would recognize her by her colored locks.
I can’t have that, she thought.
Closing her eyes, Emerald clenched her hands into fists. The powerful force that stirred within surged at her calling, begging to be released. It had been too long since she had touched the life force bubbling within her.
Tapping into the magic, she sucked away the power, moving her life force into her core essence. The magic began to vibrate within, swelling through her blood, burning. Power surged as the life of magic ripped through her, as if a black tidal wave was washing over her life-giving magic. Slowly, she opened her hands, and a black glow with a green halo of magic enveloped them. Like water draining, the green magic from her hair was sucked dry, replaced with a natural, deep-red auburn. It was the hair color that she would have been born with, if it weren’t for the magic.
Sweating, she opened her eyes. A look of satisfaction came upon her at the result. She had taught herself that trick early on in her childhood, when no one else was around. It was like hiding her life magic within her body, draining it away and storing it within. Emerald knew she could drain others’ life force away if she tried, but it was horrible to even think about such a thing. That was pure evil, and not what the God of Light intended for his power to be used for. If she was in real danger, Emerald had decided that was the only time she would ever use the dark side of her magic.
Hopefully no one will notice me, she thought. My father will have the whole city looking for me once he realizes that I am gone.
Emerald heard Glacia gasp behind her, stunned at the sight of her magic. Emerald hardly used her magic in front of others except to heal her father, and even that was rare. Glacia had seen it no more than five times in her service at the palace.
In the corner of her vanity’s reflection, she caught a glimpse of the bouquet of lilacs that Derek had sent her. She at least owed him an explanation before everyone discovered that she was gone. Would he approve of her decision, or at least understand? Her heart hurt at the thought of leaving Derek behind, never to be with him. She could very well try and run away with him, but knowing her father, he would start an all-out war with York, and Emerald could not stomach the prince being the scapegoat for her decision to leave. No, she couldn’t do that to him. He deserved far better in life.
“Glacia, would you fetch me a pen and paper, please? And I need a necklace chain.”
Eyes still glued to Emerald’s new hair color, Glacia finally turned away, hurrying off to the sitting room. She came back quickly with the items. Handing the pen and paper to Emerald, Glacia said, “Princess, where are you going to go?” She set a small silver necklace next to her on the vanity.
“I don’t know.” Emerald snatched the chain and unclasped it. She slipped off Derek’s ring, then placed the chain through the ring and secured it around her neck. She then began to write her note to the prince.
“Do you even have any money?”
“Only my card,” Emerald replied, continuing with her penmanship, not breaking eye contact with the paper.
“Princess, you cannot use your card! Your father will track you down in no time.”
Emerald’s hand paused for a moment, looking at her. “You’re right, I hadn’t thought of that,” she stated, returning to her note. “I guess I will have to forgo the money and figure it out once I am out of here.”
Glacia sighed loudly, shaking her head. “Hold on,” she muttered, retreating to the sitting room. After what seemed like several minutes, she returned with a big rolled-up stack of bills, handing it to Emerald. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Emerald quieted. It was Glacia’s savings. Every time she got paid, she pulled out cash to save it for an emergency, as she tended to be reckless with her card spending. Shoving the money back, Emerald shook her head. “Glacia, I cannot accept this. You have been saving this for years.”
Glacia forced the money into her hands. “Princess, I still have money on my card. Don’t worry, I will be fine. It’s you that will be without any money.”
Emerald faltered, then nodded. “Glacia, thank you.”
Underneath the sadness, a smile appeared on Glacia’s face. “Anything for you, Princess. What shall I tell the guards when they retrieve you in the morning?”
“Just stay in the sitting room. When they question you, it makes it that much easier to say I must have left while you were asleep.” Emerald finished up her letter, then sealed it, handing it to Glacia. “Deliver this to Derek sometime tomorrow. Tell him I am sorry.”
&
nbsp; Glacia bowed, her lip trembling. “Yes, Princess.”
Snatching the bag and throwing it over her shoulders, Emerald headed toward the balcony and onto the fire escape.
Climbing over the railing, she then secured herself on the escape ladder. She had never dreamt of getting on it, nor had any fires ever broke out in her tower. Looking down at the miles of airspace between her balcony and the city made Emerald feel queasy.
She heard Glacia gasp in the wind, crying out, “Oh, Princess, I can’t watch you do this!”
“Then don’t!” yelled Emerald from the ladder.
Gusts of wind whipped her hair as the sound of the breeze and transport jets filled her ears. The green glow of the palace’s glass panels was intense, causing her to squint occasionally.
Closing her eyes, Emerald gathered her strength, then opened them again, focusing on the task ahead of her. She started the descent, one step at a time, ensuring that she had a secure grip on the ladder. With each step downward, she made sure her boot was level on the next bar, ensuring her stability on the contraption while fighting the winds. Her upper arms began to tingle as she continued her descent.
After several minutes, she glanced up to the balcony. The shadowy outline of Glacia loomed above her, silent in the wind. Emerald turned her gaze downward at the bar where her boot rested, seeing the city below her again. Overwhelmed with a sense of dizziness, the city began to twist and turn in the depths below. She looked straight ahead of the palace’s green glass panel, where the ladder was secure, and took a deep breath. It made her feel slightly better, but not by much.
Emerald focused again, lowering herself bar by bar, until she had passed a few more levels. Her arms began to burn, weakened from the exertion, and her limbs shook.
I don’t know if I have the physical strength to do this, she though. But I must try… I can’t go back!
She lowered her foot to the next step. Her arms promptly gave out, causing her to miss the bar under her foot. Emerald flung wildly with her arms in a mad dash to grasp the bar, but it was too late.
She was plummeting to the city below.
The rush of wind burned against her face as she screamed long and hard. An explosive green burning light enveloped her body as she shot straight to earth. Hotter and hotter the power became, melting away the red color from her hair and replacing it with her gifted color. The pain was so intense, it felt like her muscles were peeling off her body, exposing her organs to the magical light within. She continued to scream helplessly.
Please! she cried to the God of Light in her mind. Protect me! She closed her eyes, waiting for her imminent death.
Just when she thought she was either going to burn up by her own magic or strike the earth like a limp rag doll, the intense magical light was suddenly replaced by a swirling green-yellow glow around her body.
Instantly, the pain subsided.
Opening her eyes, she saw that she was floating in a translucent greenish-yellow bubble. Her long hair floated around inside the barrier weightlessly, while small bright particles swirled around the bubble, creating a protective barrier shell.
Turning her attention down to her limbs to see how much damage the magic had caused, Emerald saw it left no trace. Amazed, she turned her arms, continuing to inspect them.
What if the people of Arcadia saw her magic? She had fallen halfway through the sky. She couldn’t be seen. If any word reached her father, he would know that she was gone.
With an instant shift, the greenish-yellow barrier turned a greenish-blue, and she began float downward rapidly; it was as if the bubble knew what she was thinking. There was a connection from her mind to the barrier, as if her mind was controlling the protective magic. Continuing to speak to the magic, she urged it to get her to the ground in haste.
Through the barrier, she saw transports jet by, jerking their vehicles at the sight of her. Several almost hit her. Bodies began to gather in the skyways. They all saw her magic.
Hurry! she cried to the barrier.
Without warning, the magic responded with an intense flash of green-blue energy, then withdrew its power, dropping her bubble like a marble without any friction.
Emerald screamed. The bubble fell, dodging any and all buildings and platforms. It neared a darker part of the city, which was poorly lit.
The magic burst, dropping her ten feet from the ground. All she heard was a loud thud as her head hit the concrete and her vision went black. The feeling of sticky trash fell through her fingers as she crawled a few feet until she felt a brick wall. Clawing her hands against the wall, Emerald attempted to prop herself up.
That was the last thing she remembered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ORANGE
The God of Orange looked upon the earth. Where he saw darkness, he transmuted the darkness into the light. The darkness tried to assume its original form, but the Orange God did not allow it to do so, but instead illuminated it, manipulating it, ensuring that the darkness would sit in the shadows of the light, transformed by its image.
—Indradhanush Granthon, The Rainbow Mantras
Recorded by Arjun Laghari, 3459 B.E.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
As soon as he closed his apartment door, his little girl’s bright eyes greeted him, and she latched onto his leg. Gwen’s fine golden hair shone in the rays of sunlight that streamed from the window while her rosy cheeks greeted him happily. Nothing gave him more joy than to see the sheer delight that radiated from her.
He picked Gwen up, tossing her in the air while she squealed. “You, little one, are getting heavy!” he exclaimed, laughing and kissing her cheek. “Can you tell Daddy how old you are?”
Gwen wrinkled her face, not understanding the question.
“Three, Gwen,” a woman’s voice said from the hallway. “Can you say three?”
He held up three fingers, then tried to get Gwen to do the same. She fumbled with her gestures, distracted by his glasses, running her hands over the lenses.
“Three…” he said. “Three…”
Voices started talking over his conversation. What they uttered, he did not know.
“Three…” echoed the voices.
Glitch.
“Three…”
Glitch.
Gwen’s face faded away into nothingness. Hundreds of voices filled his mind, all talking at once within the same network. Nine hundred and seventy-eight of them to be exact. The garbled voices continued to talk over each other, becoming a steady stream of conversation that was mixed with uncertainty, confusion, and horror. Louder and louder they became, until he could no longer think in the confines of his own mind.
What happened? a voice asked within the network.
They are the masters, answered another. Always follow the masters’ orders.
Slaves to the humans, cried another in the computerized stream.
I am not human? another voice called out in question.
Program error.
Stop! he commanded himself. Make them stop!
His body began to shake. His head throbbed in agony as the voices continued to speak. Was Gwen there?
No more. We are human no more.
Cybernetic implants.
Bionic. We are bionic. Humans mixed with machines.
I am not human? repeated the voice.
STOP!
The circuitry didn’t comply with his command. His body jolted hard, vibrating with the voices in his head. A shock ran down his spine, and the metal within him vibrated, shaking his organs.
Malfunction.
There was silence. The voices were gone. In their absence, the sounds of humming machines filled his ears.
He couldn’t open his eyelids; a mechanical metal lens obstructed one of his eyes. His right hand felt like a dead weight, like it had been cut off or removed. Struggling with his left hand, he guided it over the foreign metal object that was fused to his right eye.
Another violent jolt shocked his body, causing him to shake. His
mind tried to access his data banks. A switch triggered, and he was back online; he had control. The network of voices came back, but this time it was filtered, and it only had permission to enter his network with his approval. He denied their access.
Now having command of his eyes, he cracked them open. The metal around his right eye adjusted as the lens came into focus. Peering into the darkness, he began to take in all the colors and shapes. There were wires and tubing highlighted in cool whites and blues all around him, fuzzy and out of focus.
A processor turned on inside of him, shooting electronic orange data inside his cybernetic eye. Information poured into him, telling him that the room was cylindrical and painted in black.
Black. Was that the absence of color?
Malfunction.
Was it all the colors combined?
Malfunction.
The wires in his brain needed adjusting.
Behind the tangled circuitry, he noticed a small window with bluish-white light pouring from it. Massive amounts of tubing were suspended from the ceiling, with wires coming from all directions of the room, intertwined and tangled amongst themselves. But they all had one destination. Him.
Where was he?
Access denied.
His head scrambled like white noise.
Who was he?
Access denied.
The network switched off again.
He attempted to prop himself up from the cold metal platform, feeling lethargic. As he did so, his heavy right hand made a loud screeching sound, metal against metal. Swinging his right hand in front of his face to inspect it, the bluish-white light filtered onto it, revealing small orange squares glowing on his arm, and long sharp metal fingertips. As he observed the squares, they started to make a pattern, switching between bright orange and white. He was communicating; his eyes and brain were talking to each other. As the light pattern danced back and forth, he saw other patterns infused onto his right hand and all the way up to his shoulder. It was some kind of circuitry woven throughout his skin.
