Kalie Rana

Two years later

For the next two years, my training was particularly grueling. Early in the morning, I would wake up, get dressed with Maria and climb the sharp path up the fjord from the backside of the palace. Then, after passing through the small village that housed the palace’s staff and the attendants to the Great Petrel, I would cross the wind swept plain until reaching the Great Petrel’s temple. Or rather, the Temple of the Roar of the Tide. A spectacular name, for a spectacular building. Ten stories of black stone rising from the ground like a pillar. A curved base that looked like it was carved straight from the stone of the earth gave way to sharp geometric edges that made up the ascending floors. Illuminated at all times by torch light, despite the fiercely blowing winds.

Inside, there was a reprieve from the wind, but not from the sound as through the center of the tower a hollow tube seemed to channel an immense amount of wind through it. Had I not known better, I would’ve thought that it was some sort of wind tunnel from my old life. Each day, I would climb to the ninth floor. Past the first two floors dedicated to worshippers and those seeking advice from the attendants of the Petrel. Then, past the next few floors which housed the non-majin, mundane adherents of The Way—those who would seek to protect the Petrel. Essentially, they were the closest thing to a standing army that Cerith maintained. Their lineage dating back to when the first Great Petrel conquered the island, shattering it in the process, then rebuilding it as the Kingdom of the Shattered isles of Cerith.

There was no two ways about it, the damage and destruction done by an invading force coming from across the sea was not exactly a legacy that I was particularly proud to be a direct descendent of. However, seeing the sheer goodness that the Petrel—my grandmother—did on a daily basis, I can only imagine that the weight of history doesn’t sit lightly on her shoulders either. I can only hope that if or when it becomes my turn to bear that responsibility fully, that I’ll be able to tip the scales ever so slightly further as well.

Finally, upon reaching the eighth and ninth floors, I was amongst my own kind. Reserved as practice and learning space for the direct students of the Great Petrel herself, only the most advanced and strongest of all the majin of Cerith were gathered here.

Quivoq, the nature-binder. Siiva, the wind singer. Malik and Lyia, the twin wave callers, and Kunnak, one of the few earth splitters of the isles, and easily the most powerful of them all despite being only three years my senior. And then there was me. Unlike the others, I had a head start—a genetic one, I was sure—and that came in the form of following directly in the footsteps of my Grandmother. Like her, I was able to control both water majic, as well as wind majic. A talent not unheard of, but not particularly common either. Other than the two of us for instance, there was one other multi-affinity majin on the isles; the royal contractor—a man whose sole responsibility was creating deals with spirits and placing them within items to make them useful—Hareish. Hailing from the mainland like Maria, that is where the similarities between the two of them end. Hareish was a weasel of a man. Lazy and comfortable, willing to only make deals with the spirits when expressly asked to by Father or by Grandmother. If I had my way, he would be halfway back to the mainland when his boat mysteriously capsizes by morning.

“Princess,” the word was a sneer from Kunnak who had appeared in the hallway behind me. Although he was only thirteen, he towered handily over me, and the majority of the other majin students, he and I being the youngest amongst them.

“Kunnak. I see you’ve managed to get most of the dirt off this morning.” This being the second time I was ten-years old, I probably should’ve known better than to throw insults at a newly minted teenager, but at the same time. He was a jerk to me for no reason most of the time, so it was a good time.

“You dare to speak to me like that? Despite living in that monstrosity on the cliff, you are no cleaner than the beasts in my field.”

“Your family’s field you mean.” The first son of the wealthiest farm owners on Cerith, Kunnak’s family was on par with nobility. He often claimed that had Cerith not been invaded by the Petrel then it would’ve been his family sitting in the palace. This of course is failing to reconcile that it was the Petrel and her entourage that built the palace, the temple, and the Lord’s Harbor. A small wrinkle the boy didn’t like whenever I brought it up.

“You have no clue what you are saying! I will—”

“Enough!” Siiva’s word, like most of them, was an assault on my ears—as well as the structural integrity of the temple. She was a thin woman, tall and willowy like a tree’s branch come to life, but the power she commanded was a shock when one looked at her. The second oldest, and the loudest and most commanding of the group by far, anyone could at any time get a facefull of wind majic carrying her words. Everyone, except for the eldest of the group, Quivoq.

“Kunnak, you need to watch your words. Kalie is the princess of Cerith. While titles are not to be regarded here in the temple, it does not mean that you are free to say whatever disrespectful thing comes to mind first.” Quivoq, in direct opposition to Siiva, was a quiet man. Even though he couldn’t have been older than twenty, and therefore, a bit of a baby in my eyes, I appreciated his kindness and evenhandedness. “And Kalie. Regardless of your position outside of these walls, it would do well for a woman of the royal house of Rana to hold herself above such pettiness.” Quivoq, who hadn’t moved from where he had rooted himself to meditate, finally turned around to look at the two of us. In the process, I could just barely sense what felt like an expansion of something into the room, like just the act of Quivoq breaking his focus filled the room with three times as much pressure. “But, I do have to add, you did seem to manage to get most of the dirt off today Kunnak.”

“I don’t need to take that from you either! It’s not—” Kunnak’s second tirade was interrupted by the door to the training room slamming back open behind us.

“Oh, Kunnak, did you miss bathtime today?” Malik was the first of the twins to arrive, “couldn’t find enough room in the maetren’s water trough? Well, not to worry, if someone will just lend me a cup of water, I’m sure I can help you out.” Malik and his twin Lyia were the closest to Kunnak and I in age, being only a half a year older than him.

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“Leona help you if you touch me with a drop of water. I will not hesitate to hurt you.” This similarity in age, made Kunnak significantly quicker to come to blows with Malik.

“Oh Kun, take it easy,” Lyia, the last of the majin to arrive, just in time, as she was the only one who would be able to stop the two boys from fighting easily. With a simple pat on Kunnak’s shoulder, the tension in the boy’s body faded. And with a flick to Malik’s forehead, the ire he had been building for Kunnak changed targets before quickly dissipating. A smart move considering that while they were twins, Lyia was significantly better built of the two. Had this been my old life, even at fourteen, she would’ve been on a fast track for a swimming scholarship, or maybe a weightlifting one. The twins shared genetics, and their majic affinity, but that was where their similarities ended. Like a lioness, Lyia was constantly busy, working in the icy waters of the fjord fishing up the huge tuna-like bosentes, while her brother, the pretty-faced Malik, spends his days lounging waiting for her return. This was far from the norm in my old world, and even further from the norm on Cerith, but both Malik and Lyia were far from normal.

“Lines, now.” Nivi, our mundane master of The Way, and hard as nails drill-sergeant-esque trainer, strolled into the training room. The sight of her alone was enough for us all to stand at attention immediately. Finally, the main event was beginning. While it was fun to poke fun at Kunnak, with his head being harder than the rocks he split before breakfast, the true enjoyment of my day was what was coming next. First up in the morning, was our physical training.

While the old me would’ve balked at the idea of waking up and doing exercise first thing in the morning, these last few years it had never once been a problem for me. Since coming to the temple daily had become my habit, I had never once felt the effects of my mana sickness. A kindness that I sought to repay Grandmother for. Regardless of the true cause of my mana sickness, whether it was my own soul entering this body when it wasn’t prepared, or something more malicious, if she hadn’t taken me in, then I wouldn’t be around now. It was this training I was sure that was keeping me alive, and free from pain.

If only this were an option in my old world. Go all Harry Potter and be able to kick my leukemia’s ass with a flick of my wrist.

At least, regardless of my fantasies—or how much my current reality resembled one—it wasn’t all that easy. While I may have been able to leave hospitals and busy work days in my previous life, this one wasn’t all good times.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Nivi said, as she called us back into lines. “Quivoq, I’ll leave you to warm them up the rest of the way.” And with that, Nivi left. Never one to waste words where they didn’t belong, let’s just say that the two of us didn’t get along particularly well on that front at least. Quivoq took to the front of the group.

“I can sense from your breathing that you are ready for our vocal exercises. Well, all except for you Kalie, but that’s understandable.” I knew that what he was saying wasn’t meant as an insult, regardless of how malicious it would sound coming from anyone else. It wasn’t malicious, it was accurate. Unlike everyone else, I wasn’t exactly a gifted singer, and that was especially bad, considering that being a majin was essentially being a singer. At least, for the most part. “If you’d like, for the warm ups, you and Kunnak can practice your direct manipulation?”

“Why am I getting stuck with the princess again?” Kunnak asked, already separating himself from the rest of the group.

“Do you need me to answer the question, or are you going to get to practicing?” Siiva answered for Quivoq, who had already begun the slow and complicated words to even the most basic of his nature spells.

“Thank you for having me,” I said, remembering my etiquette lessons from Maria—it wasn’t that I was incapable of being polite in my old life or something, it just was that the draconian rules of etiquette in this world made me come off as a bit more palatable to a jerk like Kunnak.

“Don’t get in my way.” Of course, the decorum was distinctly one sided, as Kunnak retreated to the back of the room, gathering a bowl of fine sand that had been stored there. I did the same thing, instead grabbing a jug of water for me to practice with. Ignoring everyone else’s singing behind us was a task that I was ill suited for. With Siiva, Lyia, and Malik all singing songs of the same schools that I had affinity with, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the sound of almost familiar songs. Focusing on my own practice, I began to hum a tune, taught to me by my grandmother. The tune itself was fairly simple, but at the same time, the effect of that simple tune was undeniable. The water began to dance its way out of the jug, propelled along by my tune. I pulled the water out of the air, onto my hand, covering it completely in a film of water. As I was about to harmonize deeper with the water, my concentration was broken by an awful racket cutting through the beauty of everyone else’s song.

To my left, the only other singer in name only, Kunnak, was busy beating the daylights out of the plate of sand.

Being an earth majin the majority of his ability lay in the direct manipulation. Whether its launching stones or breaking boulders, changing their shape, or creating any number of things from the stone, that was what an earth majin like him was most useful for. For grander shows of power, like all other magics, a spirit or many spirits would be necessary, and that was where earth majin are at their weakest. With the majority of their spirits being difficult to call out to, and even more difficult to deal with, the grandest of earth majics, like raising or crushing mountains, was almost impossible to achieve.

At least not without great sacrifice.

On the other end of the spectrum, a nature majin like Quivoq, basically had the most minimal of opportunities to directly manipulate nature, due to the fact that the majority of plants, grass and weeds included were basically nature spirits themselves. This meant that for Quivoq to perform even the most basic of spells, he would require both a willing spirit, as well as a sacrifice for said spirit. And sacrifices were not often cheap. Energy, in the form of the majin’s own mana, their lifeforce, or something worse, a sacrifice could really be anything, and depending on the spirit and it’s own intelligence the sacrifice could even be the life of the singer.

For the rest of us, our schools of magic lay somewhere between. Fire and wind magics lay more on the direct manipulation end, with only the most extreme of spells requiring a large sacrifice while water magic had more of a tendency to rely on spirits for its success. All that I knew of both fire and light majins were what I was able to glean from the history books that Grandmother had gathered. But even then, the knowledge seemed to be very sparse as fire majin were impossibly rare in Cerith, and even in the southern mainland. While, light majin were just exceedingly rare in general.

“Majin of masks,” was all that the history books had to say about them, and all Grandmother had to say was even more cryptic and unhelpful. “Tricksters. Untrustworthy, and unnatural. Do not make the mistake to trust them.”

“Hello? Your highness?” My concentration was broken by an attendant who I hadn’t seen come into the training room. “Your Grandmother has requested you to come to her quarters for today’s training.”

“Time for the daily punishment, I guess,” I tried my best to be glib, but the joke fell on humorless ears.