NADYA

I nearly sneak into Kaki’s room when the Suns fall into oblivion and the Moons rise. I am so tempted to let him take me away from these giant walls and into the gray City, where it seems like the streets would suffocate me.

I even get dressed, putting on the better of my two frocks–less than the three of a typical servant girl because I do not want to be the indulgent common Ospry–and tying my hair into a tight bun. I even sneak past the sleeping bodies of Ponnie and Chi-Chi, whom I share a chamber with and manage to open the front door without either waking.

Then I shut it and turn back inside, glancing at my unmade bed, my heart hammering. I don’t understand what makes those books Kaki’s purchasing in the City so valuable. He is directly feeding into an underground economy, explicitly against the wishes of the Suns, who limit reading to be for those of certain Purity. And while Kaki is, those he is buying from are not, making him as indulgent as they. Sometimes I think I love Kaki for his predictability. Sometimes I don’t understand him at all.

If Missus Yarna were to find out I were sneaking around with him, she would have a fit.

She often tells me I am indulging myself with him, letting our friendship fester beyond what is reasonable. She thinks that I am betraying my promise of scarcity as an Ospry girl by simply existing around him, as though I want something more from him than he should be offering.

I suppose, if I were to sneak around with him, she would be right.

The storm grew worse in the night. I know there are Fathers and Mothers in the Temples, praying for it to go away as Rain-Keepers, servants exclusively here to deal with the changing weather, frantically ensure that all carts and carriages and shipments and materialistic things like fancy tables and candles are locked up and unaffected. The Rain-Keepers will ensure that doors are double-locked so they don’t fly open, that the gutters keep from flooding, that all lamps are put away so they do not shatter and leave glow-shroom residue all over the courtyard.

I lay back, wondering if Kaki ventured out at all or if he turned away too at the sight of the rain. It’s well known that the warning rains of Kirill and Gerasim can kill a man if they are angry enough.

It’s time like these where I wonder about the rumors that circle around Kaki, guiltily. Maybe he does not see these rains as a threat because he knows that, somewhere deep down, they were caused by him, brought about by a simmering temper even he is not aware of on the surface. Or maybe it is true that, when he is alone on a rainy street, the Suns specifically carve a section of the rain to keep from precipitating on him, for Gerasim and Kirill must keep the Savior of the Plague alive. Paths paved for him that the rest of us cannot walk. Or perhaps he is just a reckless boy.

***

The storm has ended by morning, but the entire Fortress is wet and dewey.

I was born into the Ospry class, and sometimes I am glad for it because of vanity’s sake. The Temple of Ospry is the shape of a clutched hand, the bones of the fingers and palm making up its balconies. It is not a shimmering emerald but a stone face, yet it is carved the most elaborately of the Moons. This is not to be awed at, however, for it demonstrates the excessively of the Ospry Moon, the brightest Moon. The carvings all around the Temple clash with each other. So many depictions that one cannot tell what it is depicting.

I climb onto the Fourth Balcony, my usual balcony, and kneel. Prayers of Redemption to one’s own patron are different from Prayers of Redemtion to the Suns. They are sincere, long ramblings of what you appreciate and value, why, and what you will do to better yourself in the eyes of your Moon. Sometimes there are physical sacrifices, but not for Ospry, as we are discouraged of owning many of anything. Our current possessions must be necessities. That itself is sacrifice enough for Ospry.

At the end of it, I whisper, “Please look over Kaki. Make sure he is safe. Please, let him find the answers he is looking for in those wordless books. Let his searching be prosperous and forgive him for indulging those are are fractured.”

I hear a clattering come from behind me. I look over.

Miss Gennadi approaches, carrying the child I saw on her back during the Feast. She is much more put together than she was during the Feast or when we’d found her crying in the servant’s corridor. Unlike herself, the child is dark-skinned and dark-haired and must only be around three or four cycles. He is strapped onto her back with a tightly wrapped vine.

“May I sit here? The other balconies are full,” she says.

“Of course.” I move to give her some room.

She whispers her prayers beneath her breath. The child wails. I try to ignore it, but he grows louder and louder.

“I’m sorry about him,” Miss Gennadi whispers, bringing the child to her chest and brushing his nose with her finger to calm him.

“It’s alright,” I say. I want to ask who this child is, if he is her son, but I keep my mouth shut to let her focus on Redemption.

It is rude but not the end of the world if you hear another woman’s prayer. I try to tune Miss Gennadi out, but I hear her mutter, “…and bless Iolanda for the….”

The child squirms in her grip. “Vronor,” she hisses. “Vronor, stop it. Vronor. I am so sorry, Nadya.”

I assure her it’s alright and offer to hold the child. I’m not much with children but she deserves prayer without distraction. I’ve finished speaking to the Moon anyway. She agrees and I take Vronor into my arms, brushing back his thick head of hair. If he is her son, he looks nothing like her.

When she is done, together we step down and make our way to the Temple of Kirill, Vronor still in my arms, the highest Sun and the first Enlightened Son.

Vronor immediately quiets himself.

Kirill’s Temple is magnificent, to say the least. The Fortress was built around it. It is hundreds of legs tall. not as tall as the Fortress itself, but close and carved to resemble a crowned ribcage. Each ‘bone’ swarms upwards into a turret, where different balconies can be used for prayer, along with a swirling staircase. The building is covered elaborately in emerald, giving it its iconic contrasting hue against the red sky. A troupe of Storytellers appointed by the Fathers of Kirill known as the Bright Men say that the Temple was not always adorned so luxuriously, that it was built first in stone, like the rest of the Fortress. But Kirill Himself was so flattered at the symbol of our devotion to Him that He transformed it.

It is built so that the ‘bones’ let in only very specific patterns of Sunlight, to reflect the dance of Kirill. Being the Highest Sun and the Enlightened Son, Kirill appeared the most God-like, yet had the most love for humanity’s whims, like dancing. The patterns of the shadows change throughout the day, until they are filtered out by the Moons, where an inverse image is created. I could stay and watch the changing light patterns forever.

The other nine Temples came after Kirill’s as, long before the plague, long before the Sixty Seven Cycle War that left us in a desolation, the people of Mecraentos only worshipped Kirill, believing Him to be our only guide to Purity. But then He brought about a ravaging storm–a frequent subject of our Storytellers–to remind our ancestors that they may be punished by ignoring the other deities that gave them life. We did not listen then.

Some theorize that the plague was a second bout of punishment, then the War–Kirill cursed us to become an angry peoples; where country turned on country; kingdom on kingdom; city on city; neighbor on neighbor. It was Enlightened Everleigh who ended the War, earning her Enlightenment.

We kneel on the First Balcony of the Temple of Kirill and begin to utter a Prayer of Redemption for Kirill. Prayers of Kirill often involve some sort of dancing or musicality. For this one, I involve a series of snaps that are supposed to be used when one is in conflict with oneself.

Vronor tries to imitate me, and I softly tell him of the blessings of Kirill. “The reason why you went so quiet,” I whisper. “You felt the power of the Sun, didn’t you? You feel His presence. Here, sit on my lap. You can pray with me.”

Miss Gennadi smiles gratefully at me.

But, before I can get started, the light patterns filtered in through the ribs of the Temple shift, moving to the right, so the left edges of the shadows are elongated. An unnatural warmth comes through the air. Everyone’s attention is broken. The transition of Kirill’s dances do not happen this quickly. A sharp ray tilts itself toward my face. I have to raise a hand to shield myself.

A woman at the balcony across from mine reaches for the shifting Sunlight. “Kirill? Kirill?” she calls.

At that moment, stepping into the Temple, wearing a traditional dress of mourning in silver and white is Enlightened Everleigh. Her hair is done in an extremely complex series of braids wrapped around her forehead. She looks like a goddess. My eyes only linger on her for a moment, for Kaki trails beside her, dressed up as well. His hair is slicked back and he wears formal mourning attire I’ve never seen him don–silver as well, with thick pads on the shoulders. His eyes are flat, nearly lifeless.

Kaki prays occasionally, but he never visits the Temples.

Something is wrong. I urge for him to make eye contact with me, but he just stops, right below our balcony, so I can only see the top of his and Enlightened Everleigh’s head.

Miss Gennadi’s breath hitches.

“Miss Gennadi?” I say with a frown. “Are you alright?”

Her face isn’t ashen, exactly, but she’s taken Vronor and grips him ferociously. “Yes, sweetheart,” she tells me, planting a kiss on Vronor’s forehead. If I’d not seen her face, I’d believe her. “I’m more than alright.”

Is today some sort of holiday I forgot about? Was I supposed to get Kaki ready this morning?

I realize it was Enlightened Everleigh direct the rays of Kirill’s Sunlight, forming a geometric pattern on the Temple floor. “Bakiyoria. Sit here.”

Kaki doesn’t budge. “I really don’t want to do this, Auntie.”

A man on the First Balcony cries, “What is the Cursed Child doing here?” Upon seeing Kaki’s glare and hearing the protests around him, he adds, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I mean no disrespect, truly.”

“Truly,” Kaki repeats. Clearly, he means some. He turns to Enlightened Everleigh. “Please, Auntie, I really don’t. The dream meant nothing, I promise. I don’t understand why you’re so–”

“Just try,” Enlightened Everleigh encourages Kaki. “There is no harm, Bakiyoria. Please? I must know if this is how it works.”

“Stop saying that,” Kaki says, but he sits down in the illuminated section of the TEmple.

Enlightened Everleigh smiles and waves her hands. “Thank you, Baki.” I cringe at the name.

It looks like a summoning ritual. There are a few of those, but they are usually saved for mourning and are looked down upon by anyone who is above the Tyn class.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Us onlookers lean in close, wondering if this is the moment that Kaki finally ascends into Enlightenedhood, wondering if the prophecies are wrong, that there can be more than three Sun-children. I do not believe so, but I know the notion becomes more and more popular with each cycle that Kaki remains alive.

The light swirls around him, as though she is physically pulling it from the air. The gold ribbonss shimmer around his Pure, non-plague-ridden skin, illuminating it. Gasps are sucked right out of our mouths. The sight is something more ethereal than we could have ever dreamed. Most of us have not seen Enlightened Everleigh use the powers which Kirill blessed her. Watching those patterns of light dance around Kaki, I feel something like a weight lifted from my chest. Vronor tries to leap off the balcony to grab for it, but Miss Gennadi holds him back.

Kaki looks absolutely miserable.

The ribbons grow brighter and brighter, turning from gold to a piercing white, enveloping his body. I’m forced to turn away.

When I do, I swear there are remnants of her power in my vision. Black dots that depict a man and a woman dancing against the Temple’s walls, smiling upon me.

Maybe they were my parents, maybe they were people Enlightened Everleigh knew, maybe they were no one. Slowly, it all simmers away.

Miss Gennadi whispers, “Oh Suns.”

I rush to the edge. Kaki sits there, in the exact same position he’d been before, eyes shut tight. I let out a breath of relief. As soon as the relief comes that Kaki has not suddenly turned into a glowing, ethereal Sun-child or something, or been taken away early by Kirill himself, I let myself smile. I wonder how he feels, if he feels enlightened in any way.

He looks around a little wildly, then makes eye contact with me and manages a smile before glancing down at his arms.

They are scalding red, the ends of his tunic frayed. I make a quick check of his face. His cheeks are too. His nose, but it is his arms that scream with red-hot anger.

“Kaki!” I yell without thinking. I try to scramble down the steps of the ribcage, but one of the Fathers has already swept Kaki into his arms, as Kaki lets out a long moan. Enlightened Everleigh stares at the spot where Kaki sat, unblinking.

Then she raises her hands, summons the rays of Kirill again. And she turns them into two women, dancing around her head. Women that fade in and out, flickering the same way the light in the Temple does, casting us into occasional darkness.

The Father is rushing out of the room, Kaki rocking in his arms, bridal-style.

I stumble down dozens of steps, tripping over my bare feet and scratching both my knees to follow them, ignoring Miss Gennadi’s calls.

***

I ignore Kaki’s complaints as I wrap his arms in thick bandages. He should have been with a proper nurse, but he said he would throw a fit if anyone touches him except me–think of all the fun Walas will have with that statement, I thought. But then he said, “I’ve had so many adults drag me around and try to touch my ‘Pure’ skin or try to cure by ‘Impure’ skin. I don’t want another one thinking that. I know you won’t.”

We’re in his chamber, sitting on his bed. Enlightened Everleigh was here for a brief second, but she didn’t even ask how her nephew was. She just popped her head in and let out a strangled sound. I thought it was a sob.

“It was all because of a bad dream,” he says. “I told her about it, and she told me that this was a sign. A sign of what? I don’t know! She just kept on repeating, ‘This is how it works. This is how it works.’ Falls asleep. Then: ‘This is how it works. Please tell me this is how it works.’ She cried in my arms, Nadya. Fell asleep again. Then: ‘This is how it works. This is how it works.’ She’s erratic. She’s insane. I hate her.“

I sigh. “Don’t say that.”

“I do. I really do.”

“She’s your family,” I insist.

“I think she’d rather I be dead. Why else would she subject me to this?”

“Don’t say that.”

Kaki sighs and looks away from me. “You don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry.” I rub salve over his right arm. “She shouldn’t have hurt you like this either way, dream or no dream.”

“It’s not even that, it’s…. I don’t know. She’s… she’s not even a monster. She cried in my arms.”

“You already said that.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” Kaki says, “if she’s like this because of the War or because she’s Enlightened. But Enlightened Alranath and Daniya–well, they are a bit erratic, but they aren’t like her.”

“They weren’t prisoners for hundreds of Moons like her on a hostile island,” I point out.

“Yes,” Kaki says quietly. “They were. They just won’t ever be remembered for it.”

I do not have a formal education, but I do know the basics of the Sixty-Seven Cycle War because of Storytellers and common thought. Rebel groups wanted to resist the Noble Party of Purity, the families who believed in equality amongst the classes, who fought for better farms and better food distribution throughout the kingdom. And Enlightened Everleigh was on the front lines. She was a Top General. A master strategist. She fought against all the rebel groups but mainly the Souls of Anlat–a group of mass terrorists.

I can’t recall any specific battles or people or anything, but there are murals in the certain wings of the Fortress. Of course, Enlightened Alranath and Daniya had to have been entirely special to be blessed by the Suns, but there are more murals of Enlightened Everleigh than anyone else.

“Enlightened Alranath talks about it sometimes,” Kaki says as I rub a salve of different spits and pounded, carefully extracted plague-free roots onto his hands. Nadya, please. This is nothing. You don’t have to do all this when my skin will clear in a few cycles.”

“You’re hurt,” I say stubbornly.

“Hardly.”

“What do you mean hardly? Look at you!”

“This is nothing compared to the kids living out there.”

“Out wh–Kaki,” I say with an exasperated sigh. I rub more salve on his cheeks. I try to turn off my ‘mother mode.’ He doesn’t need that. He needs a friend. “I’m sorry. How was the trip to Mecraentos?”

I expect him to perk up instantly, as he always does when talking about his weird discoveries or theories. Instead, he slumps a little more. This is more concerning than his burnt skin, I determine. “Jeran tried to answer my questions, but he could not. So, you know, the Shenai—”

“The Shenai? Jeran?”

“Oh. Wait, did I not tell you?”

I shake my head. “You were mad at me after the Feast. You didn’t tell me what you wanted to say then.”

“What?” Kaki says. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Or frustrated,” I say. “Not mad.”

“Was I?” He scratches his head with a reddened finger and winces. “Ow. That does hurt.”

“Told you,” I snap.

“Nadya.” But there’s a smile on his face. “Okay, I don’t think I was frustrated with you, but if I was, I’m sorry, and you can tell me if I ever both you, you know that? It’s better if you do.”

“You don’t tell me when I bother you.”

“Because you don’t.” He makes an exaggerated ‘thinking’ gesture. “Well, except for that time when you were insisting that all the clothes I was wearing weren’t ‘appropriate’ for the nighting, or when you were nagging me about that pie that you insisted was chestnut except we aren’t growing chestnuts anymore or that time when—”

I roll my eyes. “Kaki.”

“Nadya.” He nudges my shoulder gently with his. I don’t return the gesture. It feels weird. He does it again. Then again. And again, again, again.

I say, “So Jeran is the sinner you’ve been buying from?”

“Nadya.”

I flush. “Sorry. I won’t say anything about him. I’m sure he’s a good man, really. Just bore me with talk about your book.”

“You like me talking about my books.”

My cheeks go red. “No. I don’t.”

“Yeah you definitely do.”

“Preferably to you abusing me. And because you get so distracted I can start spacing out and my brain can be quiet and peaceful.”

“The book I was reading, about the nomads in the Javimoe desert,” he says. “Actually, can you grab it? It’s beneath my cot.”

I do, careful not to open it. He does, revealing the utterly blank pages.

“How did Jeran obtain this anyways?” I ask.

"I don't know. I never asked." But his voice is strained. I know Kaki like the back of my hand, sometimes. I know when he lies, at least, for he does not do so very often. I decide not to point this out because I do not want to know.

"I have not quite finished it, but as I was reading, I realized that the book was a diary written hundreds and hundreds of cycles ago by the hand of someone named Var-Nashi. This Nashi, she—I think she’s a she, but I don’t know for certain—she was indeed a traveler. That’s what nomads are. They don’t have just one home. Back then, Javimoe was called the City of Gold and it was prosperous, very prosperous. There’s a lot of words I don’t understand, references to a culture I do not get. You know—sorry, this is a bit off topic, but not really—but I want to see it now. Modern Javimoe, I mean, not the ancient one. I want to see if it looks anything like Mecraentos.” His voice hitches a bit at that. “You know, Mecraentos was spelt differently at the time, with two 'k's instead of a 'c.' Isn't that interesting?"

I shrug noncommittally, deciding not to remind Kaki that I cannot read.

“So there were a peoples called the Shenai that lived mostly in Mecraentos, our ancestors. I cannot tell what made them so different from the people in Javimoe, other than that they were more… conservative? In their dress? I suppose, I don’t quite know. Nashi wrote with little context, just called them ‘lifeless’ and ‘prudent.’ And—wait, what was I saying?”

“The Shenai.”

“Right. The Shenai, they worshiped and read the Cat’talris, according to Nashi, and that’s why she was on this trip to Mecraentos, to meet the Shenai. And, as I was reading, I thought maybe the Cat’talris was a predecessor to Yevanian religious texts because they worship the ‘elementals’ but then I realized—there was no plague at this time. So whoever the elementals were, they weren’t the Enlightened.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You know, and that got me thinking; we don’t have a real first date that the plague appeared. No one remembers that far back and our scholars, the texts that Alranath has me read, they’re all wonky. And here's the part that I wanted to ask Jeran about: if the plague was not there at the time, how come the rest of the City is still made of plague-ridden wood? The City is nearly as old as the Fortress, and clearly Mecraentos existed at this time. Do the trees become plague-ridden after they've been chopped from the root, after they are dead? It doesn't seem to make sense."

“Everyone says that it appeared at different times in different places, as it spread?”

“Yes, but still. Other than the people in the Cratic or on the Ten Islands, where did these other religious groups go, you know? Or even the Javimoe nomads? I’m sure there were other divisions of people like the Shenai. At least one other was mentioned. I forget what they’re called but Nashi called them ‘sweeter than the Shenai.’ It just gets you wondering, reading from the perspective of the past. I do not think Javimoe is the City of Gold anymore. People say it’s just a broken desert city.”

I shrug. I have never talked to anyone about Javimoe or had the opportunity to.

“If this was before the plague,” I say, “then Nashi’s Soul was completely pure.”

“I suppose,” Kaki says.

“If the Shenai or the other groups didn’t believe in Kirill and Gerasim, they were probably the first to be wiped out when the plague hit.”

“I mean…. Sure, maybe. I don’t know. I want to know, but I doubt many people in this city have the answers.” He brushes a hand back through his hair. “I wandered Mecraentos for a while before I came back, just sort of looking I guess.”

“Was that interesting?”

“It was sad, so yes. Interesting.”

I think about the sights over the wall, about how close I was to joining him in the City, to meeting this Jeran.

I don’t want to know. My life is good here. Why waste it chasing answers that are unnecessary to the present, same as chasing a life I cannot live?

I want to change the subject. I want to ask Kaki about Lightened Roe’s recitals, but that feels too selfish of me, and hypocritical.

Kaki lays back against the headboard of his bed as I ask, “Do you know who Iolanda is?”

“Iolanda? Yes, she’s—”

I can hear footsteps coming from down the hall. I perk up and say, “Who is that?”

“Who’s who?” Kaki asks, not able to hear as far as I can.

Three knocks sound on the chamber door. “Come in!” Kaki says.

Stepping into the chamber is Enlightened Alranath, Kaki’s tutor and the third person to have ever beaten the plague and been blessed by the Suns within the last few cycles. He is significantly less frail than most of the older men in the Fortress, since the plague is not eating away at him. He is built with muscle and stands straight, wearing an expensive vest and skirt-like garment that is reserved only for the Enlighteneds in a dark blue color scheme. His hair is long, reaching his waist, and on his nose are a pair of lenses, completely contrasting the ‘warrior’ image. He smells vaguely of smoke, the aroma wafting into the room as he strides in, as though he owns the place.

While Enlightened Everleigh was blessed with the power of Sunlight, he is blessed with the Suns’ Breath. Gusts of wind that he controls keeps the tailend of his garments up and his hair floating, walking with his feet slightly off the ground, making him seem as though he is constantly suspended, about to enter another dimension. It is beautiful.

I raise my palm to my forehead. “Enlightened.”

He smiles at me. “Bakiyoria, who is this?”

“That’s Nadya, Enlightened,” Kaki says. “Remember?”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, even though we’ve met three times at this point. I nod.

Enlightened Alranath tilts his head. “Bakiyoria, did you redo your chamber? It is different than I remember. Were the walls not stained blue?”

“No,” Kaki says. “I moved out of that one cycles ago.”

“Really? I thought you’d just changed it. I went looking down the old corridor for you.” He laughs heartily.

Kaki just smiles. Enlightened Alranath pulls out a piece of paper, which has real words on it. “Everleigh wanted me to go over the Food-Trade Industry with you and to discuss your decision about not attending the Sen-Fair retreat. And, see here, I made this note for myself. ‘The Sen-Fair is a retreat to provide young, brilliant minds with the opportunity to better Purify their Souls before the treacherous final Trials that will conclude their studies with their tutors for the year before a break for studies in more social-liberal studies.’ Ah! How lovely.”

“We’ve already discussed it, Enlightened,” Kaki says. “You and I both determined that I do not need my soul purified any more.”

“Did we?”

I shoot Kaki a glance. I know he did not, based on that cheeky smile that he is fighting to be rid of.

“Yes,” Kaki says, winking at me. I just roll my eyes. “We did.”

“Then let us move onto the subject of your Thesis for the Trials. They approach rapidly, my dear boy.”

“We’ve discussed that too,” Kaki says. “Remember? I am not to participate in them.”

Enlightened Alranath falters. “Ah. That cannot be right. The Trials are important for any noble boy, a chance to prove your intelligence, a chance for a seat–”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Kaki says. “But I would rather not participate.”

“Is there a reason so?”

“They are contrived and stupid.”

“So… why am I here?” Enlightened Alranath says. “These lessons are only to prepare you for your Trials. Why have I–”

“I still enjoy the lessons themselves,” Kaki says. “And I appreciate them greatly. I do enjoy to hear you speak. Remember? You can also be more lax on the subjects. We do not only have to talk about what I will be tested on. Remember?”

Enlightened Alranath nods. “Yes, yes.”

I slip away before I can listen in on something I am not supposed to.

***