Taní and Eleanor broke onto a winding foothill of dreary green grass lorded over by a twinkling megastructure of undying scalelight. Growing up, Taní had missed the chance to familiarize himself with the sight of The Royal Palace of Histell. What with it residing in the capital’s depths, by the bay. He wasn’t ashamed to admit his image of sky castles was based on the exaggerated accounts of poorly schooled farmers and foreign merchants, but this? He felt like a fry before a hulking tuna.
The titanic structure stretched from one end of the island to the next, the outer edges sinking into the frigid ocean, which he could not spot. Native islanders (from what Danza claimed) made it a point to exaggerate the fiery descent of this once airborne fortress. Why or how it came crashing down was beyond their ken, but Taní often wondered a chunk of land support something so…divine.
Their Agent—the Unifier in a past Iteration—claimed that these fortresses could only operate from on high. That their proximity to the heavens granted them the celestial energy needed to function.
Yet now it burdened the crumbling isle with its weight. Yeah, it didn’t look like the place was falling apart, but a glance at its sinking edges coated in petrified earth told him enough: There had been more there, and with time, it withered.
Taní’s mind wandered, and he imagined that one day—far in the future—the island would finally sink beneath the frigid waves. The Academy with it. Maybe then it would join the ranks of God's Fire.
Despite the school’s gravity, Taní kept close to Eleanor. She spared him the occasional glance, though otherwise made no special note of his overly familiar proximity.
“Master Sanrevelle?” he called.
“Yes?”
“Are you a Juneacão?”
Her lips quirked. “But of course.”
“Then can you tell me what you specialize in?” he asked.
“I told you, Art.”
“But…why?” Taní pressed, more confused than interested. “Do you like pretty things?”
“Aesthetics are a vital aspect of our identity, else a Juneacão’s shawl would be naught but a mere tablecloth,” she explained in an airy, almost up-tight way only a nobleman could.
“Then where’s yours?”
“I’ve stored it within my quarters. I’ve no real use for such an ephemeral trinket.”
“Because you’re always on the island?”
A twinkle of amusement shone in Eleanor’s eyes. “Very astute, D’Histell.”
“But why do you like Art so much?”
“Because one’s ability to carve their reality through strokes alone is nothing short of divine. Who save us preservers know of the delicacy and finesse it takes to judge life?”
Taní tilted his head. What a flowery way to put it. Had she been a bard in another life?
They passed several horse-drawn vehicles along their path. Some carried crates labeled “fra-geel-ay” (Tyrian?) other's loads of chattering students. None of them paid Taní any mind, which he was grateful for.
“Hey,” Taní said. “Were the kids on the boat latecomers?”
“Yes, though I’d suggest you learn their names. Pledging your allegiance is a sure way to earn land and titles,” Eleanor answered.
Taní grimaced. He’d rather ride on Blondie for a month than ever call them his Lord or Lady.
Despite the Academy's relative isolation, a sprawling garden occupied its lawn, stretching from one edge of the cliff to the other in a gradient of color. It seemed more a meadow than a noble’s front yard; a vast swath of foreign blossoms and fountains as extravagant as the castle itself.
Dozens of students wandered the artificial wilderness, talking, while others (older looking students) inspected the place. Sometimes, they even tended to the plants. The rare few that favored isolation tucked themselves away in a small corner. Shaded beneath the mighty leaf of a varied sunflower.
Taní swept his gaze across the garden, though nothing caught his attention. That is until his eyes landed upon the Academy’s no less impressive entrance. No physical door occupied the space. Only a silvery frame that revealed a well-lit interior so polished and white that it almost hurt looking at it. He couldn’t see far from where he was on the hill, but it looked clean. Too clean. As if someone had scrubbed away every imperfection.
Metal…no. It didn’t appear like metal, nor did it possess the uneven grooving of wood. Just something…divine.
Otherworldly.
Reaching the apex of the hill, he found a trio of statutes guarding the entrance. One on the left side of the frame, one on the right, and a final—albeit smaller statute—inserted into the arching accolade design above the towering frame.
They gleamed like burnished bronze despite the timid sun in the clouds, and though they weren’t old, looked ancient.
Their ornate armor of another age, those proto-shawls draped across their torsos, their flowing hair caught upon a stiff, unseen breeze, and their stoic, almost lifelike expressions. Good blood, even the edges of weapons gleamed with crimson brilliance. If it were night, he’d think them giants come to life!
Whoever had crafted them must’ve been a sculptor among sculptors. Even the most luxurious Monasteries couldn’t boast this level of quality.
“Master Sanrevelle, who are they?” inquired Taní.
Eleanor lifted her chin. “They are the founders of Hierrsé Academy. Valtar Vlasalisk, D’Aarcy Dragonfang, and Fadina Fadénix.”
Taní straightened. “Wait, they’re the founders of this place?”
“Yes.” Eleanor glanced at him. “Are you not familiar with the Academy’s history?”
Taní refrained from responding. He didn’t know much about the place besides it crashing into the island, but Valtar, D’Arcy, and Fadénix? The righteous heroes of the Three Nations’ War? He wouldn’t have guessed they’d set up shop near the edge of the world.
They were, if not entirely, the most powerful Juneacão to grace the land. Their legends the daydreams of aspiring Juneacão, though more importantly, it was their blood-stained relics which garnered their fascination. Items graced with the strength of God.
Taní studied the trio of statues once more. He recognized Valtar on the left, being the only man, of course. Broad and fit, he was the most courageous of the three. His every legend praising his ability on the battlefield. Despite being the student of D’Arcy (arguably the finest fencer in the Westerlans) he earned the mantle of a peerless duelist, and the master of Goem.
D'Arcy stood opposite of him; her choice of weapon vaguely styled after great eastern blades as tall as a person. Legends claimed she had undergone tutelage from a wandering warrior during her decade-long stay in a reed-strewn bloodland. Harusto or something like that.
Few Grazers made use of the peculiar style, though he’s heard tales of her relic being shortened to allow for an adaptive fighting style. Scabbard in the offhand and blade in the main, like the monks from the east who claimed to “extinguish the black flame” from the minds of those it tempted. Admittedly, he’s only ever seen them twice in passing.
As expected of a Juneacão, she was fit, with her straight, though thoroughly unkempt long hair marking her as Tyrian. From what he knew, she was the oldest of the trio, and a Lunarkin. Meaning she was definitely the tallest.
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Finally, there was Fadénix. Rumored to be of Coros descent, she (supposedly) hailed from Drophorse Valley. The borderland situated between the kingdoms of Kastel and Coratão.
Unlike Valtar and Darcy, she was no master of Goem or Toem, nor did she have a solid grasp on Judgment. No, the legends painted her as the first and greatest wielder of God's Fire. It certainly made up for her poor horseback riding and fencing. If he were prone to falling flat on his face, he’d certainly want something to even things out.
But to attend a school they had founded… Taní couldn’t believe it! Maybe this really was what he needed. He could even master a School of Sedd! Then, once he reunited with Danza, he’d show him all the progress he’d made. Nothing, and he knew nothing, would give that old Juneacão a better reason to smile.
He’d show everyone what he’d learned, and they’d have no other choice but to acknowledge him as their equal! Squires, the nobility, it didn’t matter. None of them would have a reason to hate him for just being him.
Eleanor held up a hand as they arrived at the foot of the garden. Taní stopped upon the silent signal, then shot her a confused glance.
“This is where we must part,” she announced, her eyes set on the entrance.
“Huh? You’re just leaving?”
“I’ll be informing the Deputy Headmaster of your arrival. I hear he has been quite eager to meet you.”
Taní debated asking her why, pressing for answers he should’ve sought from Danza, but in the end, he shrank. “…You could’ve just said yes.”
Eleanor turned to him, though this time, she betrayed neither contempt nor indifference. Only a strained, wistful smile. Like Danza at the port.
“Do not mistake partings for goodbyes, D’Histell. They offer naught but grief.”
Taní sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Guess things’ve just been fast lately.”
“Why not have a seat in the gardens? The calm might do you some good,” she suggested.
“Alright.” Taní inched forward, but before he could leave her side, he stopped. He glanced at his pocket, then to Eleanor. She gave a slight inclination of her head, and though it was stupid, Taní reached into his pocket and revealed the shiny pebble. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Something I picked up passing through Godsfield.” He held out his hand. “Found it near the fort. It’s warm, too, so if you ever get cold, just keep it on you. Danza used to say it was like a mini campfire.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Do you mean it’s…?”
“Not sure, but it’s just like the Tower. Even has the same colors n’ glow! All creamy, just like the morning sun.”
“Well…it’s pretty, though I don’t understand why you’re showing it to me.”
“Cuz I want you to have it,” Taní said, bringing his hand closer to hers.
Eleanor blinked. “Do—Do you truly mean that? This is an Aspect. Perhaps the only one of its kind, and you think it wise to gift a stranger it?”
“Yup.”
“But…why?”
“I dunno. You just seem like the type of person who gets cold hands a lot.”
A dazzling beam that rivaled the night sky tugged at her lips. It stretched from a barely perceptible curve like the gentle bend of a creek until her eyes crinkled with a barely contained happiness that made her look like she wanted to cry, yet not once did her eyes silver.
Eleanor extended a shaky, calloused hand, and once Taní was certain, transferred the pebble safely into her grasp. For the first time since he discovered it tucked beneath the earth, he noted its shape. The thing resembled more a key, what with its undulating blunt ripples as smooth as a low tide. Hewn onto its surface was the visage of the moon and sun. What it represented, he didn’t know, but it looked bloody pretty.
Maybe that’s what made it special. The fact that something so mundane and insignificant could appear like a miniature trophy from another era and fit in the palm of his hand. All without anyone ever knowing it existed.
Taní would miss it, if only for that.
“Keep it safe, yeah? You might be noble n’ all, but gifts are special.” He winked.
Eleanor’s fingers delicately curled about the pebble’s form, shielding it from the cloudy sun’s wrath. Not once did her smile waver; not even as she brought the pebble to her chest. “You needn’t concern yourself, Tanão. It’s in safekeeping. This, I swear to you.”
Taní grinned, his cheeks burning at the mention of his full name. “I liked it better when you called me by my last name.”
“Yes, well, a slip or two is to be expected. Have some leniency.” With that, she started towards the entrance. “Till next time, D’Histell.”
†
Taní stared at the gray clouds as they passed, the cool, stone bench kissing his back. Bored to an ungodly degree, he rolled off and approached a nearby sunflower. He wrapped a hand around its tall stalk and waved it around senselessly. Pretending it caught in a wild windstorm. Sometimes they snapped, other times they fell limp as he created the noise of the devastating tempest with his mouth.
Once the terrible sky god’s reign ceased, Taní took it upon himself to finish off its adversaries. Swatting at the limp flowers with his practice sword until he split them cleanly in twain. He never could reach the climactic end, what with him being promptly chased by alarmed students.
Despite it being calm, that only meant one thing: it was boring. Good blood, there was nothing to do. Why did they all sit around studying and reading when they could be out having an adventure? Or even drinking and celebrating like no tomorrow!
Taní paused. Drinking?
There was a response from his lower half. Irritatingly small, but there.
He tried asking a passing student for the nearest outhouse, but they ignored him. Their eyes glued to their book.
He then asked a nearby gardener watering a patch of flowers for aid, but when Taní direly uttered the facility’s name, they arched a confused brow in response. Did that word mean nothing here?
Realizing he wouldn’t receive an answer, Taní distracted himself with the rolling world. The Deputy Headmaster would arrive any moment now. Surely Eleanor hadn’t forgotten about him, right?
Right?
Taní held a grimace as he shifted in his spot for twenty restless minutes. The discomfort gnawed with increasing cruelty, threatening to burst like a destroyed dam. Surely, they must’ve had dozens, possibly even hundreds, of facilities within the Academy. He only had to be patient.
A crisp crack drew Taní’s attention to a student sitting near a garden clearing. It’s source: A girl, and though she was reading, she took a refreshing swig from her cannister. A metallic cylinder, much like the ones wealthy Juneacão Orders carried on them.
Many had taken to dubbing them “cans,” and much like canteens, they carried liquids inside. A bizarre, fizzy drink sweeter than most pastries that sizzled upon one’s tongue. His first taste of the drink had been a rather…messy affair. Thankfully, that Jury hadn’t gone and murdered him after spitting all over the priceless portrait of their founder.
The girl in the clearing took another long sip, then placed her drink on the cobblestone path. It set with a light clink, but Taní could’ve sworn he heard the liquids sloshing around.
Blocking out the noise, he shut his eyes, but just as peace settled, a deafening blast of sound shook him. A storm approached, and that meant rain.
Lots and lots of rain.
Enough rain to make rushing rivers flood, and ponds turn into minor lakes.
Taní sat up in his seat, his eyes snapped on the oppressive, star-muting bank of thick haze rolling in from the west. Despite the west’s absence, the rains came all the same, caring not for the end.
The girl—noticing the approaching storm—tipped her head back and downed the rest of her drink. Once finished, she closed her book and made her way towards the entrance. Taní, without thinking, followed her.
She passed through the portal, but before he could step into the inviting warmth of the structure, Taní slammed into an invisible wall.
Taní blinked, started again, then came to an awkward pause as nothing pressed back. He poked at the unseen force, and when it wouldn’t budge, he threw his fist at it.
An immense spike of flesh-tearing heat sowed itself into the framework of his hand, eliciting a sharp yelp as his world turned. He stuck out a foot, catching himself mid twist and desperately blew on his hand, and once it had sufficiently cool, turned to notice the girl from before staring at him. Her face etched with concern.
“Are you a student?”
Taní lowered his hand. “Yes… Yes, I am.”
“Did you forget your Brand?”
Brand? “Yeah, I left it back in the…library!”
She looked him up and down. “Why’re you out of uniform?”
“Uh…dirty! Yeah. Dirty.”
“You a fresh?”
Taní nodded. Not that he knew what the term meant.
“Alright.” She stepped closer. “Give me your name, and I’ll go looking for your Brand.”
Taní panicked. “Uh…actually, my friend’s getting it for me. We were just hanging out, and I told him I forgot it!”
She placed her free fist on her hip. “Weren’t you just sitting across from me for the last twenty minutes?”
“Yeah, no, I just saw him a few seconds ago. Told him I forgot it. Don’t worry, he’s got you covered.”
The girl shrugged. “If you say so.”
Taní waved her off, feeling stupid all the while. He was about to burst, yet all he could do was stand there and wait for someone to come down the hall.
His gaze fell to the floor, and though he sat at the edge of defeat, a spark of hope remained. His hands might not have worked, but perhaps a weapon could fare better.
Glancing either way, he unsheathed his sword, then delivered a cutting cross at the entrance. Instead of bouncing off the surface as he’d predicated, something tugged. He pressed the blade deeper, the tooth of his sword sinking into a flesh beyond flesh, thicker than stone.
Taní jerked forward, the blade gliding through the air with a slight rattle until it came to a sudden stop. A light gasp of moist air emanated from the trembling hilt, and though he tried pushing and pulling, it wouldn’t budge. He didn’t give up hope, though. Nothing would stop in him in his quest for toilet-based relief!
Taní grunted and pressed his full weight against the item, his thoughts an image of a porcelain haven. Every three seconds, the invisible wall would give, unleashing faint waves of tangy zest, and the scent of freshly polished floors. He had to keep going. This was a matter of life and death. The continued existence of his trousers.
As the chilly Redtide air wore on his muscles, a presence greater than he sputtered to life. One nestled within the core of his breast. And it brand itself his flame. If only for now.
An undeniable heat overcame Taní, its boundless strength adding to his in a silent roar of defiance. The heat surged from his hip, stabilizing his trembling limbs, and then some. Fragrant aromas and subtle sounds poured from the invisible gash, but before he could make the final push to split it open, the discomfort of his bladder struck him like a tidal wave.
It was all he could think of, and so he lost heart. The spark of heat diminished, expelling the blade from its gut with a thinning pop, and redirecting it towards his face in a mahogany blur.
Before all went black, he spotted a wide-eyed Eleanor standing beside an equally stupefied graying man.
More confused than horrified.